Sister, Sister
by runningthroughtheroses
Summary: In Rosewood, appearance is everything. It's not like there's an official competition or anything. But everyone knows that if you want to get anywhere in this town, you'd better play the game. My sister chose to play a different game. Now things are spiraling out of control, and if I want to keep my darkest secret, I'd better play, too.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In Rosewood, appearance is everything.

Everything revolves around who has the best job, who has the biggest purse, who has the most expensive car. It's not like there's an official competition or anything. But everyone knows that if you want to get anywhere in this town, you'd better play the game.

That's why everything, including valedictorian of the senior class and manager position of every business, can be bought. That's why girls are willing to spend four hundred dollars for one hair appointment, and some of the boys are, too.

That's why I am doing my makeup at five thirty in the morning.

But I guess I can't complain. I mean, I've known how this town works pretty much since I was in kindergarten and half the class showed up with Louis Vuitton backpacks. I could choose not to participate in the ridiculousness.

And yet, here I am. Five thirty. Doing my makeup.

It's kind of strange, actually, because my parents are possibly some of the only people in Rosewood who don't really care about appearance. Sure, we're relatively rich, like everyone else, and we have expensive clothes and furniture and everything you're supposed to have. But when I was in fourth grade they let me get bright pink braces instead of clear, almost invisible ones, like all the other kids had. And they let my older sister wear glasses and pigtails and be labeled the biggest loser in school for years before she finally wised up on her own the summer before this one.

I probably would have been a loser, too, if I hadn't gotten lucky. Somehow I ended up with twenty-twenty vision (lucky), braces that were only necessary for six months (lucky), and a sense of fashion that is certainly not genetic (lucky). So far in my short high school life, I haven't seemed to stick out.

Anywhere else that might seem pretty depressing. But in Rosewood, that's really all you can ask for.

I stick the cap back on my tube of eyeliner and evaluate my reflection. Out of all days, the first day of school is probably one of the most important. After all, you have to prove to everyone that you didn't either become poor or nerdy over the summer.

I turn my head from side to side, trying to decide if my eye makeup is even but getting distracted by the glint of my earrings in the process.

"Hey." There is a knock on my bedroom door and I spot my sister through the mirror. Her name is Mona. I think my parents should have named me Lisa, but I guess they have more common sense than I do because they named me Viola instead. "What do you think?" She holds out her arms so I can get a look at her outfit.

I swivel around and stare for a moment. "You look fine. I'm pretty sure that's my necklace, but whatever." Apparently older sisters have free reign of their younger sisters' closets. But God forbid I try to exercise the same right.

I turn back to the mirror and plug in my hair straightener. I already straightened it last night, but it got a little messy overnight. Having even slightly imperfect hair is unacceptable at Rosewood High School.

It's probably obvious that I'm a little bitter about all of this.

"So what's sophomore year like?" I ask, grabbing a section of my hair and narrowly avoiding burning my finger. "Is it hard?"

"Oh, it depends. It was for me, but probably not for, like, Spencer Hastings." I roll my eyes. Mona likes to pretend that she is not a genius with an IQ that is higher than mine. It probably has something to do with the fact that "Loser Mona" was smart so now she can't be.

But I'll still take pride in my straight A's, thank you.

"It's been a year, you know," my sister says abruptly, her voice a little lower but still pretty casual.

I spit a bobby pin out of my mouth and let my stick straight hair fall back around my shoulders. "A year since…" I begin to question, but the realization hits me halfway through the sentence so the last word of "when" turns into "Alison."

Alison DiLaurentis. Even just her name sends a chill up my spine, for various reasons. One reason is that she was the queen bee of Rosewood High School before I was even a student there. Heck, she was probably queen bee of Rosewood before _she_ was a student there. With long, blond hair, light blue eyes, and the strange ability to make any article of clothing look amazing on her, Alison had the potential to be a real bitch.

And oh, did she live up to that potential. I knew the myths about Alison DiLaurentis way before I had ever seen her in person: She had three fake IDs. She had an older college boyfriend…in _Europe._ She could make anyone popular. Anyone.

She could also ruin the life of anyone she chose. And she chose Mona.

For all of middle school and the start of high school, Alison made my sister's life basically a living hell. Starting nasty rumors, creating nicknames, and turning the whole school against her were some of the highlights. She spent the majority of three years crying in her room. My mom used words like "depression" and "professional help" and even, once, "police report," though I'm not too sure what that was all about because I was eavesdropping.

It was horrible. It was also the reason why I made it my personal goal to be perfect. There's nothing to make fun of about girls who are perfect, and there was no way that I was going to be Alison's next target.

The second reason that even the sound of her name gives me a chill is because not only was Alison a major bitch, she was such a major bitch that apparently some one had enough and killed her.

It happened last summer, right before the start of her sophomore year and my official introduction to high school. According to facts, she was at a sleepover at the Hastings' barn with her four best friends, Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and Emily. Sometime during the night, when everyone was sleeping, she disappeared. No one has seen or heard from her since. Since no one ever found a body, they can't officially say that she's dead. But everyone knows.

There are about a million rumors about who killed her and why. But they all seem a little far-fetched to me. I don't know how she died, or if she even is dead, and I don't really care. After what she did to my sister and countless other people (nicknaming a boy in her class "Hermie" just might top the list), I'm just glad that I don't have to worry about bumping into her anymore.

I yank the cord to my straightener out of the wall and now actually do burn my finger. I grimace. "I don't want to talk about Alison. I'm just glad that I get to enjoy most of high school without her posse ruling the school."

Mona sighs and walks back out of my room. "Do you need a ride?" she calls over her shoulder. I know that the only reason she asked is because she got her license just a few weeks ago and she is very excited about it.

"No, Macy's mom is picking me up." Macy Littleton is my best friend. Well, I call her my best friend, but we're really not that close. Not many people in Rosewood are. We generally seek out the people most like ourselves and cling to them in hopes that we won't get shafted into the sea of outcasts and losers.

Ten minutes later, I toss my dark hair over my shoulders, grab my purse, and take a deep breath. A whole new year at Rosewood High School is about to begin.

…

Macy's mom talks nonstop the whole drive to school. Are you ready for school, what classes are you taking, do you girls have classes together, have you had a good summer? I'm not even really sure where to jump in because there are so many questions to start with.

We're pulling into the drop off area, already filled with parents' BMWs and Mercedes, when Macy hits me on the shoulder and points. "Hey, isn't that Aria Montgomery?"

I follow her gaze out the window. A girl with wavy, dark brown hair and big eyes is climbing out of a dark blue minivan. I squint and very vaguely recognize her. "Looks like it. They must be back from Iceland."

Aria Montgomery was one of Alison's best friends. Her family moved away to Iceland very soon after "that night." Last time I saw her, she had pink streaks in her hair and carried a pig puppet around in her backpack. She was what most students called "artsy," though that was probably only because she was Alison's friend.

Now the pink streaks and the pig puppet are both gone. Macy and I watch as Aria disappears through the front doors of the school. "Have a good day, girls," Mrs. Littleton calls to us as we scamper out of her mini Cooper.

I admire all of the new clothes and new hairstyles as we enter the main hallway and go looking for our new lockers. I'm suddenly glad that I decided to wear a leather miniskirt – it seems like half of the school is wearing the same one.

"Hey, Viola." Hanna Marin passes me, waggling her fingers in my direction.

"Hey," I call back to her, smiling. Hanna is Mona's best friend. She was part of Alison's clique back when she was chubby and only wore baggy t-shirts. Somehow the two of them bonded the summer Alison disappeared, and showed up the following school year as the new queen bees of the school. I was there to witness the whole transformation and even I was shocked.

Macy laughs and grabs my arm. "You are so lucky that your sister is, like, the most popular girl in school. Even the other popular juniors know you!"

I roll my eyes. Macy is way more concerned with popularity than I am. Her goal is to be at the top of the social hierarchy by the time we're seniors. My goal is to make good grades and not be on anyone's bullying radar. That's one reason why we're not that close. "Hanna's like family," I tell her. "She practically lived at my house over the summer."

"And you don't understand how lucky you are?" she demands, finding her locker and spinning the combination.

"No." I open my own locker, just a few down from hers, and begin piling in my new binders and notebooks. "Hey," I change the subject, "who do you have for study hall?"

Macy pulls out her crumpled class schedule and consults it. "Mrs. Carlino. Why?"

"I have Mr. Fitz. I've never even heard that name," I complain.

Her eyes light up and she slams her locker shut, glancing around conspiratorially. "Mr. Fitz? Oh my god, that's the new junior English teacher. I heard he's _so_ hot." She shakes her head in mock disgust. "God, this must be, like, the best day of your life."

I wouldn't exactly go that far, but the idea that at least one of my teachers is cute does brighten things up a little. "Well, I'll tell you one thing." I sling my purse over my shoulder and link arms with her. "This is our second year with no Alison DiLaurentis and her reign of terror, so it's going to be great no matter what."

I'm wrong, but I don't know it yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, there's only one review so far on chapter one, which is pretty disappointing, but since I have so much of this written out already I figured I'd go ahead and update. Thanks for the story favorites and followers, but some more feedback would be appreciated!**

Chapter 2

"A new development in the case of missing teenager Alison DiLaurentis occurred last night. A body, assumed to be Alison's, was found by workers during construction in the backyard of the house previously owned by the DiLaurentises. The house's new owners, who prefer to remain unnamed at this time, have no comment. But with this new discovery, it is likely that the Alison DiLaurentis case will change from a missing person investigation to a murder investigation."

My eyes are glued to the television. I'm so absorbed in the news report that when I raise my bite of cereal, the spoon nearly misses my mouth. The rumors of Alison running off to France or going to live a new life as a criminal can finally be put to rest.

Alison is dead.

"Turn that off," Mona snaps, walking into the kitchen and taking a handful of nuts from the bowl on the counter, the only thing she ever seems to eat anymore. "Please."

I scowl but grab the remote, and the screen goes black. I'm getting a little sick of this. Sometime during her transformation from loser to queen bee, Mona turned into what I would call a Pretty Major Bitch. As far as I know, she has not yet caused anyone to use words like "professional help," so at least that's something. But sometimes I do miss the glasses and dorky clothes.

"Can you believe she's really dead?" I ask, slurping the rest of the milk out of my cereal bowl and carrying it over to the sink. "I mean, we all kind of already knew that she was, but it's so…official, now."

"You're right," she says, but then raises an eyebrow at me. "We did all already know."

I lean my elbows against the counter and try to ignore that. "Are you going to the funeral?" Now that there's a body, there can be a funeral, which is happening tomorrow afternoon. Apparently the DiLaurentis family wants to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Of course not," Mona scoffs. "Maybe you've forgotten that she spent years trying to ruin my life?"

"No," I say defensively, fidgeting in my seat a little. "I just thought…I don't know, closure, I guess."

"I got over Alison DiLaurentis a long time ago," she snaps, flipping her hair back and stomping off. It doesn't really sound like it to me, but then again, I'm not in her brain and I am thankful every day for that.

I'm not going to the funeral either, I decide later that day as I do my first geometry homework of the year. I never really knew Alison. And Mona may be a Pretty Major Bitch now, but she's still my sister so I have to have some amount of sympathy, and anyway, Alison was worse.

There will be plenty of people at the funeral, I'm sure. Alison was popular, even in death. Some people will probably show up just to make sure that her ghost doesn't come after them or something.

Good thing I don't believe in ghosts.

…

I'm walking to lunch the Monday after the funeral when I hear my name over the announcements. "Viola Vanderwaal, please report to the main office."

I like my first name, and I like my last name, but I've realized over the years that they sound pretty stupid together. I'm not sure why my parents decided to give me a first name that starts with the same letter as my last. Maybe it was trendy at the time or something, but I don't like being one of those matchy people. It sounds even stupider when it's announced to the whole school.

Apparently the reason I was called to the office is for something more serious than a question about my transcript or a note from my mom, because as soon as I walk through the door the secretary ushers me into Vice Principal Hackett's office.

I'm not really alarmed until I walk in and see what appears to be two FBI agents waiting for me. "Miss Vanderwaal?" one asks, reaching to shake my hand. When I nod, she says, "Take a seat."

"What's going on?" I ask shakily, dropping my bag on the ground and sitting down on the old, dusty couch. Hackett is nowhere in sight.

"Nothing to be worried about," the same agent says. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"What? Do I need to call my mother?" I don't know a lot about anything legal, but I do know that generally FBI agents cannot burst in and start asking you questions without your parents being there.

"That's not necessary," the male officer tells me sharply, reaching back to push the door to the office closed. "We're investigating the death of Alison DiLaurentis and we just have a few questions."

I am both glad that this has nothing to do with me directly and confused that out of all of the people in this school, I'm the one that they choose to talk to. "I didn't even know Alison," I protest, noticing that as I speak, the male agent writes on a legal pad.

"Don't worry. We're talking to anyone who might have had any sort of connection to the DiLaurentis family," the woman drones, clearly bored with my questions and ready to get to some of her own.

But I'm not sure _I'm_ ready for that. "But that's what I'm saying. I never knew Alison. I spoke to her maybe once or twice back when we were in middle school, but she went missing before I started high school."

" _You_ may not have had direct contact with Alison DiLaurentis, but we have reason to believe that your sister did. Is that correct?"

This makes me feel a little better – my family had this conversation with the Rosewood police after Alison went missing – but I still squirm in my seat. I hope I have enough time to eat lunch once this is over. "Uh, yeah. I mean, Alison kind of bullied her for a couple years."

"We have on file that what went on between the two was a little more than your standard case of bullying," the man pipes up, still writing furiously on his pad. I'm waiting for him to go on, but both agents look up and stare right at me.

"Oh. Well, um, I guess. I don't know, my sister didn't really…tell me much. But I think it was just, you know, name calling, rumors, stuff like that."

The woman sits back against Hackett's desk and crosses her arms, looking at me with greater interest than I think I deserve. She taps her pen against the desk for a moment, sighs, then says, "You don't think she would have…done anything to Alison, do you? As revenge?"

" _What?_ " I gasp. Mona is five feet tall on the dot. The image of her whacking Alison over the head is so funny to me that I have to hold back a laugh. "No! No, absolutely not. No." I sneak a look at the clock and see that the lunch period is nearly over. My stomach grumbles and I stand, grabbing my purse. "Look, if you have any more questions, you'll need to ask my sister. I really don't know anything more." Before they can stop me, I push out the door and back into the main office.

I stop in my tracks. The four seats outside the vice principal's office are filled. Aria, Spencer, Hanna, and Emily sit in a row, clearly the next victims of the FBI agents' questioning. "Hey guys," I say, giving them a smile.

Spencer doesn't beat around the bush. "Viola, what's going on? There's a cop car outside."

I glance behind me to make sure the secretary isn't listening, then step closer to them and say quietly, "Two FBI agents are here. They said they're questioning everyone who might know anything about Alison's death."

"What?" Aria leans forward in her chair. "We already talked to the police when Ali went missing."

"Yeah, but now they know that someone killed her," I whisper. The door behind me opens, and I jump and rush out of the office before I'm called back.

…

I've been taking gymnastics lessons since I was four years old. It's not that I love it or have dreams to win an Olympic medal or anything. But it's not completely horrible and I'm pretty good at it by now, so why stop going?

Every week, I go to a two hour group class. We always start out with a half hour of stretching. For the past three years, my partner for this has been a blond girl named Elizabeth who is much better than I am. So it's a pretty big surprise when she's not in class.

"Viola," the instructor, a tall woman named Beth, calls, jogging across the large room to me. "Elizabeth broke her ankle over the weekend. She won't be in class for a good few months."

I stare at her, open-mouthed. If an incredible gymnast like Elizabeth can break an ankle, I don't even want to think about the injuries that I could possibly sustain. "Wait, if she's gone, who am I going to work with?"

"Justin's partner is out today, too. You can partner with him." Beth waves over one of the three guys in this class. I've never spoken to him, but I can't say that I haven't noticed him. It's hard not to notice a guy who is tall, muscular, and about three times more attractive than anyone else in the room.

He walks over, nodding at me, and I suddenly become aware that what little gymnastic skills I previously had are all going to go out the window today. "Hey," he says as Beth jogs to the front of the room to start class.

"Hey." I smile, working hard to keep my eyes on his.

"So…" He pauses, and I wonder for an insane moment if he's actually going to ask me out after a mere two words. "You want to go first?"

It takes a second to dawn on me that he is talking about sit-ups. I hope my face isn't as red as it feels. "Oh. Uh, sure. That's fine."

I lay on my back on one of the blue mats spread around the edges of the room, folding my arms across my chest, and Justin kneels in front of me, pressing his hands down on my feet to keep them in place. "You're not from around here, are you?" he asks.

"Brookhaven?" I ask, pulling myself up to my knees and dropping down again. After years and years of this, I barely even get out of breath anymore. "Uh, no. I live, like, ten minutes away. In Rosewood."

"Rosewood?" He pulls away and I fall back, grimacing when my head hits the mat. "Crap, sorry. But isn't that the town where some girl's body was found a few days ago?"

I finish my fifty sit-ups and slide back. We switch positions and he starts the exercise, about twice as fast as I had been and not out of breath one bit. "Yeah," I confirm. "Alison. She was a year older than me."

"I saw a news report on it," Justin explains, finally having to huff a bit to get the words out. "Pretty crazy stuff. Do you think someone actually killed her?"

"I mean, I guess so. How else could she have ended up in a hole in the ground?" I ask, sitting back as he finishes his sit-ups. I sit cross-legged on the mat beside him and glance around. We appear to be the only people who are done.

Justin wipes his brow on his arm. I try not to stare. "I wonder if they'll ever figure out who did it. The reporter said she went missing a year ago?"

"Yep." I am ready to be finished with this conversation. Practically the whole reason I came to class today is because it seems like all anyone in Rosewood can talk about is Ali's murder. I was hoping that the news hadn't yet spread to the neighboring towns, but obviously I was wrong. "They found her body right when things were starting to quiet down again."

By this point, most of the other groups have finished stretching, and Beth calls out for us to roll up the mats. "Well, I'll tell you one thing," Justin mutters to me, grabbing a corner of our mat. "Rosewood sounds like a pretty interesting place."

I roll my eyes and grab the other side. "You have no idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to Pinkpoodle8, nick2951, and venna26 for reviewing. I appreciate the feedback!**

 **This chapter is really where things start to heat up, plot wise. Just a fair warning, there is a possible trigger for sexual assault late in the chapter. It is not graphic, however. Please let me know what you think!**

Chapter 3

I decided when I was twelve that the most extensive birthday party I will ever want is a sleepover with three friends, tops, and maybe a shopping trip with Mom.

It's been three years and that hasn't changed.

I probably wasn't self-conscious enough at the time to realize it, but now I'm sure that the reason I decided that was because everyone else seems to feel the exact opposite. Forget the specialty of a "sweet sixteen." In Rosewood, _every_ birthday is "sweet."

It's only a few months into the school year, and already in the sophomore class, there have been two huge dance club parties, the entire bowling arena has been rented out three times, and even a huge bash on a _yacht._ All including catering and some not-so-secret alcohol, naturally. I went to all of them and honestly, none of them were that great.

Thankfully my birthday isn't until March, when most of the party craziness has started to die down. It's mostly the kids with earlier birthdays who throw the biggest parties, to try and impress everyone else. By the time the second semester rolls around, most people are just trying to survive and no one cares who else is having a huge celebration (as long as they can still have one, of course).

I wish I could say that Mona felt the same way. But I think it's pretty obvious by now that we are not very similar.

Last year, her party was in a huge ballroom and we all had to wear formal dresses and eat very small portions of food. So apparently this year she has decided to go completely in the opposite direction. She is having her seventeenth birthday party in the woods. Camping. Or "glamping," which doesn't sound like a real thing.

I'm going, of course. Actually I'm the only sophomore invited, and I'm not allowed to invite anyone else in my class because that would be socially unacceptable. So, since I'm not really friends with anyone in the junior class, I'm already prepared to have a horrible time.

But I'm not as bad a sister as I sound. As soon as Mona walks downstairs the day of the party, I grab her and scream, "Happy birthday!" The two cups of coffee I've already had this morning don't hurt.

"You're sweet." She smiles and pulls away. "Okay. How psyched are you for tonight?"

I consider whether I have the heart to tell her the truth and decide that I don't. So I try to be kind when I say, "Yeah, it'll be fun. I'm not sure who I'm going to hang out with, though."

She looks at me like I am the dumbest person who has ever walked the earth. "Um, me, of course?"

I return the look. She can't be serious. The only reason she invited me to her party in the first place is because Mom made her. "You seriously want to spend most of your birthday party with _me?_ You're kidding."

Mona laughs and says cheerfully, "Of course I don't! But I need somebody to be my mini me and make sure everything gets done, right?"

I should have known there would be a catch. "Why me? What about Hanna?"

Her face darkens. "Hanna was uninvited. That bitch is dead to me."

Oh. I can't believe I forgot. Just a few days ago, some blocked number sent Mona a text just to tell her that during the summer they both made themselves over, Hanna got liposuction to lose all the weight she did instead of dieting or exercising. The text was only signed by "A," which I guess means anonymous.

Anyway, I generally don't believe things that are told to me through mysterious anonymous text messages, but Mona took this as a complete personal offense, because she spent that entire summer eating practically nothing even though she's always been a stick. And now she's no longer friends with Hanna.

You'd think that's the sort of thing I would remember, but for some reason I chose to spend the past few days focusing on a big geometry test instead of my sister's stupid drama.

My priorities are obviously very screwed up.

And now this party is looking more unappealing than before. I think I would rather spend the night sulking on a tree stump by myself than trailing Mona around, watching her scream at the caterers, because she generally turns into more of a psycho than usual during any kind of event.

But it's her birthday and I don't want to be _too_ rude, so I force a smile on my face and say, "Great. I can't wait."

…

My job is to make sure all of the guests get signed up for a time to get their hair blown out, which is only one of the many tents scattered around the campsite. I've only seen one girl come out so far, and the results were not pretty. I think I'll pass.

The party started about twenty minutes ago and there are already over fifty people here. There are big tents with basically everything you could find in a spa, smaller tents for people to sleep in overnight, and tables filled with desserts. I'm starting to finally understand what "glamping" means now.

Once all the guests have received their "swag bags" (which makes me laugh), and been signed up to get blown (which makes me laugh harder), I wrench Mona away from yelling at some poor member of the catering staff who dared eat a cookie and go to sit on one of the tree stumps. There are some juniors around me, talking about things I don't understand and people I don't know, and I am completely ignored.

An hour later, I get a little bored of playing games on my phone and stand up, adjusting my blue tank top. People are getting a little drunker and a lot louder, but I don't feel like joining in. I had one beer about half an hour ago and it somehow only made me more aware of all the mosquito bites I'm getting.

The woods loom all around the campsite, looking dark and a little scary. But I decide that being around a bunch of drunk juniors I don't know is scarier, so I grab a flashlight from a table nearby and plunge in.

It only takes a few minutes of walking before most of the sound from the party has been drained out by the heavy leaves. It's getting late, and the cool October air is making it cold. After only about ten minutes, I have goose bumps all over my arms and I'm thinking about turning around and finding my way back to the party. The silence has made my headache go away and I think I can stand the rest of the night now.

Before I can turn back, something to my left catches my eye. It's two beams of light, completely visible in the otherwise total darkness. Though the two circles are way bigger than my flashlight, I figure it's just a few other kids, probably making out or more. But I push a few branches aside anyway, curious, and find myself near a clearing beside the park.

And the two bright lights are not flashlights. They're headlights, which makes sense because there's a dark blue car parked in the clearing, where I'm pretty sure a car is not supposed to be parked. The lights are not on in the car, but I can make out two dark figures, kissing.

"Of course," I mutter, rolling my eyes, but the mystery of why they needed to drive a car here to make out is interesting enough to keep me moving. I creep a little closer, cautiously pushing branches and leaves out of my way until I'm just a few yards away from the side of the car. I click my flashlight off and squint.

I can make out the side of one face. It's Aria. Of course. She probably snuck away from the party with Noel Kahn, who she's been dating for a few weeks. I don't blame her. Out of all the guys at our school, including even the seniors, he's by far the hottest.

But something still doesn't make sense. Both Aria and Noel came to Mona's party. Where did the car come from? And why is it all the way on the other side of the woods?

Then the guy in the car turns partially away from Aria, and I gasp so loudly that I'm sure they both hear me. I duck down behind the bush I'm hiding behind, my hand over my mouth.

Mr. Fitz?

For some reason my brain shuts off for a few seconds and I can't comprehend why Aria would be in a car with her English teacher and my study hall supervisor. Why would he even be here in the first place?

And then my brain turns back on and I remember what they were doing just two seconds ago. Kissing.

Aria Montgomery is having an affair with her English teacher.

I actually let out a laugh, then clap my hand back over my mouth, shaking my head in disbelief. Last year a teacher at a high school a few towns over had an affair with a student, and it was all over the news for months.

I sit on the ground, turned away from the car, and pull my knees up to my chest. Should I tell someone about this? Obviously a student dating a teacher is against school policy. But I'm not really sure this is my business. And anyway, what if I completely misread what was going on? What if this is a one time thing? It doesn't really look like it, but the last thing I want to do is spread some rumor before I know it's true.

I feel like that one beer might make a reappearance. It's too late and I'm too tired to think about this more tonight. I'll decide what to do tomorrow morning, after the party.

I stand up to leave and shoot one more glance behind me at the car, just in time to see a figure appear out of the trees across from me. Though they don't seem to see me, I drop back to my knees and peer through the branches.

Whoever this is wearing one of the hoodies that were passed out in the gift bags. The hood is pulled up around their face. They run right up to the back of the car and it looks to me like they write something on the steam on the back window.

I stare, mesmerized. This night could not possibly get any crazier. Then the person straightens up and glances around before taking off back into the woods.

It's Noel.

I take back my previous statement.

Maybe I really am drunk, I wonder as I stumble back toward the party, wanting to get away from this situation before anything else insane happens. My head is spinning as I trip on a root and literally fall back onto the campgrounds.

I watch everyone else laugh and drink and have a generally carefree time while I'm sitting on the biggest secret of my life. If anyone else finds out about this, Mr. Fitz could be fired and Aria could get a reputation way worse than just "artsy."

But someone else _does_ know, I realize as I plop down on a tree stump in a daze. Noel knows. And as hot as he might be, he's also one of the biggest jerks in school. There's no way he's going to let this go.

I'm not sure how long I sit there, dwelling on all of this, before Mona appears out of nowhere and pulls me up. She's crying. "What? What's wrong?" I ask, trying to remove myself from one crisis and prepare myself for another.

She grabs my hand, shaking her head. "Hanna just got hit by a car."

" _What?_ " I can hear sirens in the distance, and by now it seems like this news has spread. People are running toward the parking lot. "Oh my god."

We run along with everyone else. The parking lot is mostly empty aside from a few parked cars. The ambulance has arrived and Hanna is being strapped onto a stretcher. She appears to be unconscious. My gasp turns into a sob halfway through.

Most of the kids from the party have made a wide arc around the ambulance. Spencer, Aria, and Emily stand in the center of it, hugging each other and sobbing. My stomach is churning. "Who hit her?" I cry, looking around.

"I don't know, I didn't see it happen," Mona says, not meeting my eyes. "Spencer said it was a hit and run."

"Oh my god," I say again. My headache has returned. I clutch the pearl on the end of my necklace, and I suddenly realize that Hanna was the one who gave it to me, for my last birthday. I'm pretty sure she shoplifted it, but still. It's the thought that counts.

Everyone collectively watches the ambulance until it disappears around a corner. I shudder and begin to trudge back to the party, wiping tears from my eyes. Hanna will be okay. She has to be. I mean, no one's ever actually died from being hit by a car, right?

By the time I get back to the campsite, I've decided that there's no way I can stay overnight here. I grab my bag and my jacket and am just about to text my mom to pick me up when my phone dings with a new text message.

Maybe my mom heard about the accident, I think as I pull out my phone. Maybe she's on her way here now.

But it's not her. The text is from a blocked number, labeled "Unknown."

 _Uh-oh, Viola! Looks like you saw something you shouldn't have! Don't spill their secret, or I'll spill yours. –A._

I stare at the screen. _A?_ That was the same person who sent Mona that text about Hanna's liposuction. But this message seems more like an actual _threat._

My vision blurs around the word "secret." I stumble back and sit on a log, turning my phone over and clutching it in my hand as the memory comes back to me.

…

 _I knew that the party was going to be a bad idea before I even got to Sean's house. There were way too many cars lined up and down the street, and I could hear the thumping bass of the music when I was a block away. There was no way that there wasn't going to be a million juniors and seniors at this party. Maybe even some kids from Hollis._

 _But there was also no way that I wasn't going anyway. An upcoming freshman being invited to a high school party, even a sophomore one, was basically unheard of._

 _The house was packed with people. Aside from some of the sophomores, I barely recognized anyone. Mostly there were kids that looked like they were around sixteen or seventeen, but when I walked into the kitchen I spotted Sean's older brother and a whole bunch of people who must have been in their early twenties. I recognized Melissa Hastings, Spencer's older sister, standing with her boyfriend from high school, Ian Thomas. I grimaced. Back before he graduated college, Ian had spent summers helping coach middle school field hockey, which I played between sixth and seventh grade. All of the other girls on the team had had huge crushes on him, but I'd always found him creepy._

 _Ian glanced away from Melissa and gave a quick smile and nod in my direction. I thought for a second that he was looking at me, but turned away and spotted Alison and her clique standing in the doorway. She was in the very front, as usual, with her posse assembled around her._

 _Alison generally never paid much attention to me, probably because I was a year younger than her so officially insignificant, but that night she walked right up with a big smile, holding a red cup in each hand. "Hey, Viola."_

 _I resisted the urge to punch her and forced a smile. "Oh, hey Alison. Hey guys," I called back to the others, who looked generally just as uncomfortable at this party as I felt._

 _"Here." She held out one of the cups to me. "I saw you empty-handed and grabbed you a drink."_

 _I took it carefully, trying to decide the likeliness of her poisoning it. She raised her eyebrows at me so I took a sip. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting, but it definitely was not the sour taste of beer going down my throat. I held back a cough._

 _Alison glanced at me, then at Ian, and smirked. "He's so hot, isn't he? Don't you think, Spence?" she said to Spencer, who was standing to her left and a little farther back. There was something in her tone that seemed a little off._

 _Spencer scowled at her, crossing her arms. "Cut it out, Ali." Aria, Hanna, and Emily exchanged confused glances._

 _I felt something pass between Alison and Spencer and decided that I'd better get out of here. Anyway, hanging out with Alison DiLaurentis was not how I'd planned to spend my first official big party._

 _I tried to squeeze between them without being noticed, but Alison put a hand on my arm to stop me. "Why don't you hang out with us tonight?" she asked, smiling. "You really could use a better influence."_

 _The best thing to do around Alison was to bite your tongue, but by this point I really didn't care anymore. "Maybe I do," I snapped, stepping closer to her. "Too bad there's not one around here." I drained my cup of beer in one gulp and threw it at her feet, then pushed between Aria and Emily and hurried out of the room._

 _My head was pounding with adrenaline, and I was aware that more than a few people were looking at me. No one ever seemed to stand up to Alison, not even people close to ten years older than her. I was terrified, but I also felt a little invincible._

 _That might have just been the beer talking, though. That had been my first one, ever, and it had tasted horrible, and now the hallway was spinning around me, but even all of that couldn't put an end to my high._

 _Until half an hour and two more beers later, that is._

 _My head was pounding in a different way. All of the adrenaline had worn off into the new feeling that I was going to throw up. The realization that I needed to find a bathroom hit me all at once._

 _I stumbled through the den and kitchen, heading to the hallway leading to the downstairs bathroom. I was nearly to the doorway when I stopped in my tracks. Alison and the other girls were standing in the doorway, huddled together. I froze. My confrontation with Alison had felt great, but now that I was officially drunk, I wasn't sure if I could handle another one._

 _I turned and hurdled through the crowd of people before she could spot me, and headed upstairs instead, gripping the railing tightly. Suddenly this party wasn't so much fun anymore. I should have just stayed home and watched a movie with my mom and sister._

 _There were several doors to my left and right at the top of the stairs. The first door to the left was open, so I hoped desperately for a bathroom and plunged inside, flicking on the light._

 _It was not a bathroom. It was a bedroom. Even more mortifyingly, it appeared to be Sean's parents' bedroom. The only thing making this not completely terrible was the fact that at least it was empty._

 _I started to turn and return to my search when my vision started to spin too badly for me to take another step. I plopped down on the edge of the bed and groaned into my hands._

 _The dizziness was just starting to subside when I heard a voice from the doorway. "Everything alright in here?"_

 _I took a deep breath to steady myself and looked up. Ian stood in the doorway, looking even taller and more muscular than usual. "Viola," he said in surprise, dropping his arms to his sides. "Everything okay?"_

 _My throat suddenly went dry. I coughed and swallowed hard, then choked out, "Uh, yeah, I just…I'm a little…"_

 _"Ah, I get it," he chuckled, moving farther into the room and sitting beside me on the bed. "First big high school party, huh?"_

 _I shifted away and nodded. He laughed. "Oh, geez, I remember my first time. I got so drunk I ended up falling asleep on the ping-pong table."_

 _Obviously this was supposed to be funny, but I wasn't really in the mood for jokes. All I wanted was to go home, but I wasn't even sure I had the strength to move. Ian smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. For some reason, he didn't seem to be giving me the same creepy vibes that he usually did. I almost felt a little safer with him there._

 _"It'll be alright," he said quietly. "You'll sleep heavy tonight, and tomorrow will be a little rough, but you'll be alright." He stood, walked over to the door, and closed it quietly._

 _I bolted upright too quickly. The dizziness flooded back. "Why did you do that?"_

 _He gave me a concerned look. "You don't want anyone else to see you like this, do you?"_

 _"No," I replied, because that was definitely the truth. "I don't."_

 _He walked back over, this time kneeling down in front of me. "Maybe this'll make you feel better," he whispered, and pressed his lips to mine before I could react._

 _I pulled away and gaped. That had just been my first kiss, and I wasn't even sober enough to enjoy it. The logical part of me was screaming to run, to fling open the door and not look back, but the drunk part of me couldn't stop thinking that Ian was much better looking than I had ever realized before._

 _"See?" He grinned a little crookedly. "Your color's back already." He stood and pulled me toward him, kissing me again, this time a little harder._

 _This was wrong. This was all so wrong. And what was even more wrong was that I couldn't help but enjoy it. It helped that Ian could easily still pass for a college freshman. Imagining that made this whole situation significantly less weird._

 _His mouth moved to my neck and his hand slid under the back of my shirt. I did not mind at all until I felt his grip slide a little lower than just the small of my back._

 _"Wait," I gasped, pulling my lips away from his. "This – "_

 _He pulled me back toward him, aggressively enough to shock me into silence. I felt his hand pull the strap of my tank top off my shoulder, my bra strap going with it._

 _It wasn't until the other strap was off that I realized all at once what was happening._

 _"Ian," I cried out, struggling. "Stop it." My arms were pinned to my sides and he kissed me again, although this time I was far from any enjoyment._

 _I was fully aware by this time. It was like fear had replaced any sense of being drunk. Anger began to take over, and I mustered all of my strength and wrenched my arms free, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away._

 _He grimaced, looking put out for a moment. "What the hell are you doing, Viola? Isn't this what you wanted?"_

 _"No!" I cried, hastily pulling the straps of my tank top back on before everything was revealed. "Not at all!"_

 _He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward him, but I wrenched myself free and grabbed the doorknob, practically vaulting myself into the hallway and down the stairs._

 _People shouted slurred insults at me as I shoved past them, sloshing their drinks, but I was barely conscious of anything, running until I was out on the street and two houses down._

 _I finally slowed to a stop, my thoughts catching up to me. Ian Thomas had just forced himself on me. He would have full-out raped me, if I hadn't gotten away._

 _I rubbed the goose bumps on my bare arms, standing in the center of the sidewalk. The word "rape" repeated in my head until I couldn't take it anymore, and slid right to the ground, sobbing._

…

I shudder involuntarily, the text running through my head. That _has_ to be the secret that "A" is talking about. I told absolutely no one about what happened to me that night, not my parents, not my sister, not any of my friends. I knew that I shouldn't have kept it to myself, but I couldn't handle saying the words out loud.

But someone knows. And that same someone is threatening to tell everyone.

My shudder turns into full-out shaking. But who can possibly know this? Was someone watching that night? Did someone see what happened? As far as I know, the only two people who know are me…and Ian.

But Ian can't possibly be "A," can he? Why would he wait so long to hold this over my head? And why would he care at all about Aria and Mr. Fitz?

My first instinct is to dial 911 and tell them all about this message. I'm pretty sure threatening people over texts is not considered okay by the law. But, once again, the more illogical part of my brain stops me.

Do I really want people to know that Ian forced himself on me? I mean, yes, he is an adult and I was fourteen at the time. But in Rosewood, that doesn't matter. Last year, an eighth grader was caught making out with a freshman at Hollis College. She's been called a slut ever since.

I've worked pretty hard to keep up a good image and stay off the radar. I really don't need any labels like that on me.

I glance once more at the message and stand up from the log, brushing back my hair and trying to smile. No one needs to know about this. It's not like I have to actually do anything to keep my secret. I just have to keep my mouth closed.

I can do that. I've been doing that my whole life.


	4. Chapter 4

**I generally try to update every other day, but since I have this chapter done and since Pretty Little Liars is on my mind 99% of the time now (Tuesday can't come fast enough), I figured I'd go ahead and put this up now. As for the reviews...**

 **Megs - Thanks for the support! And yes, Viola had a pretty horrible time that night.**

 **nick2951 - Yes, I think Viola would agree with you! Fortunately (or maybe not?) the whole situation comes to a head in the next chapter.**

 **FairlyOddFreak - I was wondering if you'd comment on this! I'm glad you like it. Yes, Viola is my own character.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate getting feedback on my writing.**

Chapter 4

A week later, everything is mostly back to normal.

Hanna's fine. She has a broken leg and ankle, but she also has more popularity than ever now that she'll be in a wheelchair for at least another month.

I haven't heard anything more from "A" since the party and I'm just starting to be able to forget about it. It was probably just some loser or jerk who was bored of their own life and trying to stir up trouble. And who knows if they even knew about my actual secret? Odds are they just made that up to scare me.

But I'm definitely not telling anyone about what I saw, just in case.

Hanna got to go home from the hospital yesterday. Tonight Mona is throwing her a surprise party while Ms. Marin isn't home. I think that if I had just gotten home from the hospital in a wheelchair, the last thing I would want is a huge party, especially one in my very own house. But I will say again that Mona isn't known for having rational thoughts.

I love Hanna like she's my own sister, but I'm not going to the party. I have a big math test on Monday that I'm preparing to study for all weekend. And I haven't really been big on parties since that night when…

Yeah.

It's almost eight and I'm laying on my stomach on my bed. My geometry binder is in front of me but instead of studying, I'm texting Justin. His gymnastics partner came back to class several weeks ago but Justin asked if he could stay partners with me, which made everything else that happened that day insignificant to my life.

But since then, it's getting easier to think of him as an actual person who I actually like being around, not just as that hot guy who I constantly embarrass myself in front of. I probably will never find another guy with a personality that matches his looks, so I'm not about to let this one go.

After about an hour of studying/texting, my stomach grumbles and I hoist myself off of my bed. I head down to the kitchen, grab a cookie while my mom is watching, grab a second one while she is not, and rush back upstairs with one already halfway gone.

Something green on the beige hall carpet catches my eye on my way back to my room. It's a sticky note, upside down on the floor. I stoop down and pick it up.

 _You'll get your $$ back. If you do what I say. Sweet dreams. –A_

My heart feels like it plunges into my stomach. Is this meant for me? What money? I run into my room and dig my wallet out of my purse, rifling through it. All of my cash and credit cards seem to be in place. Ditto for the envelope of extra cash that I keep at the bottom of one of my dresser drawers.

I sit down at my desk, staring at the note. If this wasn't meant for me, then it must be for Mona. Has she seen it yet? I decide that it's likely. Why would "A" leave it in the hallway otherwise?

The handwriting looks vaguely familiar, and definitely belongs to a girl. I frown down at it, trying to conjure the memory of where I've seen this writing before.

Macy's face appears in my head. I'm not one hundred percent sure what her handwriting looks like, but if I recognize the writing on this note, it must belong to someone I'm close to.

But why would my best friend want to threaten me and blackmail my sister? What could she possibly gain out of that, especially if I were to find out? Money, apparently, but no more best friend, that's for sure. And she talks constantly about how lucky she is to have me because my sister is so popular that I am also popular by default.

I take a deep breath, trying not to jump to conclusions. I don't even know that it _is_ Macy. I take one more long look at the note, trying to memorize the specifics of the writing, then crumple it in my hand and toss it in the wastebasket.

I return to my bed and gaze down at my own carefully written math notes. First chance I get on Monday, I'm going to find out the truth.

…

Besides lunch and gym, the only class I share with Macy is fourth period chemistry. She's terrible at it and I'm pretty good, so the teacher paired us together, not knowing, of course, that we are best friends. Teachers never pair best friends together if they can help it.

But I'm not in the mood for messing around today.

Today we're working on a sheet of problems on balancing equations. Macy and I pushed our desks together. I'm doing the odd problems and she's doing the even. I keep trying to glance inconspicuously at her paper, but unfortunately her arm is in the way.

This is probably the first time that anyone has ever wished that someone else was left-handed.

Once I realize that I'm going to have to try another tactic for now, I say quietly, "Hey, Mace. What do you think about people who hold grudges?"

She furrows her brow at her paper, erases furiously, and finally looks up at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, have you ever held something against someone? Even something stupid?"

She puts down her pencil and gives me a knowing look. "Okay, Vi, who is it?"

"What?"

"This is about a guy, right?"

This is not going the way I thought it would, but if I deny it, she's going to wonder why I asked in the first place. So I do the next thing I think of, and make up a lie on the spot. "Okay, fine. You know that guy in my gymnastics class? Justin?"

Macy turns completely away from the chemistry worksheet, nodding enthusiastically. There's nothing she loves more than other people's gossip – even mine.

I stumble over my words for a moment, unsure of where I'm going with this. "Um, well, a couple weeks ago he gave me his number. We've been texting a lot, and uh, I guess I started to think that he might have feelings for me. But…" I pause and sigh to cover for the fact that I don't know what to say next.

Macy looks fascinated. "What?"

This is another reason why we're not that close. She's really not that great of a friend. "It's just that last week I, uh, caught him hanging out with this other girl during break. He barely even looked at me. And I just, like, can't get over it. What do you think I should do?"

That story sounded stupid even to my own ears. But Macy looks like this gossip is just too much for her. "Oh my god, Viola, why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"What should I do?" I press, quickly balancing another equation on the worksheet as our teacher walks by. I was hoping that my snooping would be easier than this.

Macy taps her pencil against the desk, pondering this. She actually looks serious. "Honestly? I think you should ask him how he feels."

Whoa. "A" or not, that is not what I was expecting her to say. "Really?"

"Yeah," she says earnestly. "If you really like him, you shouldn't let some other stupid slut get in the way. Tell him the truth!"

I have only seen several messages from the stalker who seems to be obsessed with my family, but this doesn't seem like something that person would say. But just to make sure, I ask, "So you don't think I should try and get back at him?"

Macy rolls her eyes, pushing her hair out of her face. "God, no. Revenge is stupid. And so is holding a grudge. That's for, like, sixth graders." She focuses back on chemistry for about five seconds, then stands up and says, "I have to use the bathroom. I'll be right back."

This could not be more perfect. As soon as she is out of the room, I pull her chemistry binder toward me and flip through it until I find a page of her disheveled notes. Her handwriting is messy almost to the point of being illegible – something I probably should have remembered.

I sigh and snap her binder closed, pushing it aside. Macy is obviously out. But I should have known. Whoever this "A" person is, is obviously smart enough to threaten and blackmail people without revealing their identity. Macy can barely figure out how to balance a chemical equation. I pull her worksheet onto my desk and correct a few mistakes until she gets back.

I'm obviously relieved that "A" is not my so-called best friend. But since she was my only lead, I guess I'm back to square one.

…

The end of the first semester is coming up, and along with that comes midterms. They always go easy on the freshmen, to try not to scare them off for good, but once you're a sophomore they really pile on the tests and projects. I have my history and English midterms tomorrow and needless to say, I'm way too freaked about that to concentrate on anything else.

I'm in the middle of finishing my English paper when my laptop goes black. It's four years old and the battery is completely wonky. I groan and pull open my desk drawers, searching for the charger. It's not in its usual spot.

I basically tear my room apart looking for the stupid thing. It's nowhere to be found and if I don't get this paper done within the next hour, I'll barely have any time to study for history, which is something that I desperately need.

"Mona!" I scream, stomping down the hall and pounding on her door. "I need my charger back!"

There's no answer, so I shrug and push open the door. "Mona, I said I need my – "

I don't bother to finish that sentence because the room is empty. This is strange because I distinctly remember her telling our mother that she was staying home to study all night.

It only takes me a few moments before I realize that I don't really care. I have bigger matters of my own to deal with. I'll just have to look for the stupid charger myself.

I walk over to her desk and pull open the first drawer. Whereas everything in my room is generally a total mess, hers is neat to a frightening extent. I'm a little hesitant to poke around and mess anything up.

But I do anyway. There's nothing even resembling a computer charger in any of the top three drawers, so I tackle the bottom one. All I see are a bunch of folders and notebooks, but I move those out of the way and spot a small, ancient-looking black cell phone at the very bottom.

I raise my eyebrows and pull it out. It's a Blackberry, but it's super old. It looks like it could even be the original, from, like, five years ago. Why would she have this?

"Viola!"

I jump at the sound of my name, whirling around with the phone still in my hand. Mona stands in the doorway, her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes immediately focus on the phone. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was looking for my computer charger," I say, pushing the drawer closed. I hold out the phone. "Whose phone is this?"

"I told you yesterday that I needed to borrow it," she says, ignoring my question. She pulls the charger out of her purse and hands it to me. "Remember?"

I do vaguely remember that conversation, but I have bigger things on my mind now. " _Whose phone is this?_ "

"It's mine," Mona snaps, snatching it out of my hand and tossing it back into the drawer.

I shake my head, wondering how stupid she thinks I am. "Um, no. That thing is like, a million years old. And I _know_ it's not yours because Mom and Dad got us the same model for Christmas last year."

Her expression changes from surprise into something a little…angrier. I take a step back. "Viola, you really need to learn how to mind your own business."

What she just said reminds me of something, but I can't figure out what it is. But for the first time, I'm actually a little afraid. "Fine, it's your phone, whatever. You don't have to be so secretive about it." I roll my eyes, grab the charger, and rush back to my room, trying to process what just happened.

But once I do, I realize that I can't possibly let this go. What kind of little sister would I be if I did?

…

Rosewood High School is screwed up in a number of ways. But when it comes to time between classes, it actually really rocks.

In between our seven class periods of the day, we get ten minutes to go to our lockers, check on our makeup, hang out with our friends, and finally see our boyfriends after the longest forty-five minutes ever and god, I wasn't sure I could make it.

Or, if you don't have a boyfriend, time to go to the bathroom.

That's where I am just before the last period of the day, when I hear voices out by the sinks. I hear Hanna just as the door to the bathroom opens. "So do we know for sure that it's Ian?"

I feel my breath catch in my throat. Is _what_ Ian? There's no way that I'm going to walk out now and interrupt, so I pull my knees up to my chest and hold my breath just as I hear Spencer reply, "It has to be. Who else would be that desperate to get that video back? It pretty much confirms that he killed Alison."

 _Ian killed Alison?_ Oh my god. I press my hand to my mouth, afraid to make a sound. I didn't even know that Ian _knew_ Alison.

"Maybe he heard us say that we were planning on taking the video to the police," Emily says quietly.

"So if Ian was the one who stole Spencer's laptop, that means he can't be 'A,' right?" Aria whispers. "Why would 'A' give us that video just to take it away from us?"

Such a loud buzzing fills my ears that I don't hear whatever comes next. I jump up and burst out of the stall before they can leave. "You guys are getting messages from 'A'?"

The four girls whirl around to stare at me. "How much did you hear?" Spencer asks nervously.

I nearly roll my eyes. What, does she think I materialized into the bathroom stall halfway into their conversation? But I force down any sarcasm. The last thing I want to do right now is annoy them. "Everything."

"You won't tell anyone what you heard, will you?" Emily asks, glancing at the others.

"Of course not." I twist my hands together and frown. "I got a text from 'A,' too. The night of Hanna's accident."

The shock on the faces of the four girls surprises me. They couldn't possibly have thought that they were the only ones this person was targeting, could they? "What did it say?" says Spencer.

I close my eyes, picturing the screen, and paraphrase, "Basically it said that if I spill someone else's secret, 'A' is going to spill mine."

The girls all exchange looks. "Sounds like 'A' to me," Spencer mutters.

Aria looks at me curiously. "What was the secret? The one 'A' didn't want you to spill?"

My eyes meet hers for a second before I can stop myself. I tear my gaze away and stare at the ground. "Uh. I'd rather not say. But the last thing I want is my own secret getting out."

Hanna frowns. "Mona got a text from 'A' too. Just a couple days before her party, when we were fighting."

I nod. "I know. She told me." I don't mention the sticky note that I found in the hallway, because I still don't really know what that was all about. "How long have you guys been getting these messages?"

"A couple months," Emily replies. "Since Aria came back from Iceland."

"We think that whoever's sending us these messages is the same person who killed Ali," Spencer goes on. "Or at least knows something about who did kill her."

"And you think that Ian is the person who killed her?" I can barely choke out his name without shuddering. Ian is back as a field hockey coach, and has been hanging around school all year. Every time I catch a glimpse of him in the hallway or in the quad, I get the urge to throw up. Still, as horrible as what he did to me was, I can't imagine him actually murdering someone.

There is a moment of hesitation. It's clear that whatever they know about Ian, they don't want to tell me. "We think he might be," Spencer says finally. "He was with Ali the night she died."

"Oh, god." I lean back against a sink. I have just started to get over what happened with Ian the summer before last. I don't think I can handle the idea that now he's the one sending me – and, apparently, others – threatening messages.

The first bell rings, and I straighten my bag on my shoulder. "I've gotta go," I mutter, and hustle out of the bathroom. I wanted to tell them to let me know if anything else happens, but I doubt that they would have. Obviously there's a lot more to this "A" person than I thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome to chapter five, everyone. This is a big one. Or should I say, "A" big one?**

 **nick2951 - You don't have to wait long, fortunately. Something big between them is going to go down in this chapter.**

 **Pinkpoodle8 - Oh yes it does, and it will, as Viola is soon to discover.**

 **Siren of the Dark Seas - Well, Viola didn't realize exactly what was going on at the time that she told the girls about her own "A" message. But I think she'd agree with you, especially after what is to come.**

Chapter 5

It's been two weeks since my run-in with the girls in the bathroom, and I haven't heard anything more about Ian, Alison, or "A." I'm starting to believe that "A" never really wanted to target me. Maybe they just panicked when I saw something I shouldn't have and sent me that text to scare me.

It worked.

Even though it's been almost a month since I got that text, and three weeks since I found that sticky note in the hall, I'm still jumpy every time I hear a strange noise or see a shadow at night. Clearly "A" is still around, just not tormenting me at the moment. But that doesn't mean I'm in the clear.

And anyway, there's still another issue. Mona has been acting very strange lately. She is home less than ever, and never tells any of us where she's going, no matter how many times I ask. I'm pretty sure this has something to do with "A," especially after that note I found. Whoever this psycho is must still be holding that money over her head.

It has occurred to me that I should probably tell our parents, mostly because this appears to have some connection to a murder. I really don't want my sister to be the next person found buried in a backyard.

But I haven't told anyone, because I don't really think this is my business to tell. And if I tell my parents about the text that I got from "A," they'll want to know what my secret is. I've spent so long trying to forget about that night. I can't relive that again.

And anyway, Mona's been through bullying once before. If it gets that bad again, I'm sure she'll tell our parents herself.

But I still want to talk to her about it myself. She should at least know that I got a message from "A" the night Hanna was hit by a car.

It's nine o'clock on a Friday night and I'm sitting on the swing on our front porch, doing some chemistry homework and waiting. Mona never came home after school, so this seems like a perfect time to ask about her anonymous stalker.

But it's been almost an hour, and soon I'm sure my mom will be coming out to make me come inside or, worse, actually sit with me. I'm just starting to get irritated when a flash of black passes between the two trees to the side of our house.

Oh, god. I bolt upright, my homework fluttering to the ground. I jump up and am reaching for the doorknob when I see a shadowed figure right beside the porch.

A random burglar at nine o'clock on a Friday night? Or "A"? Option two seems more likely, and suddenly I'm so angry I lose all sense of logic. I jump down from the porch and tackle the figure before I can reason with myself.

They push me right off with an amount of strength that I was not prepared for. "What the hell are you doing?" I cry out, scrambling back up and tearing after them. Whoever this person is, I have no idea as I run after them, around to the back of the house. They're wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. It's baggy enough that I can't even make out a gender.

There are woods right behind my house and I'm determined to get to this person before they can get to them. It would be impossible to chase someone wearing a black hoodie through the dark woods.

"You're 'A,' aren't you?" I yell, out of breath. This is probably the scariest situation I have ever been in, but for some reason I have never been less scared of anything.

That is, until the hoodie person stops in the middle of my backpack, whirls around without warning, and punches me. A fist, covered by a black glove, hits me right on the chin. I cry out and stumble back, and as soon as my hand flies to my chin the person takes off into the woods.

I sit down on the back steps, breathing hard. My chin is throbbing and appears to be bleeding a little, though it's too dark to really tell. I want to go inside. I want to tell my mom everything. This isn't just someone sending nasty messages anymore. Someone just _attacked_ me. The fear catches up to me all at once.

I step onto the back porch but stop myself from going inside. Whoever this person is wanted to get into my house badly enough to try and get away from me before just running off. I have a strange feeling that they'll be back.

Trying to calm my heart, I duck behind the railing beside the deck stairs and crouch down. This might be a total waste of time. It probably is, actually. Most likely, "A" has given up on trying to break in tonight and will just wait until they know everyone's gone. Or, if they do come back, who's to say they'll come in through the back?

I glance over my shoulder and wince at the dark woods, touching my finger to my chin. There's a gross metallic taste in my mouth and I would really like some water and a Band-Aid. But what I want more than that is to murder the person who did this to me.

It's purely my anger that keeps me squatting on the deck for nearly half an hour. Hopefully my mother hasn't tried to come check on me. She could be calling the police right now for all I know.

My stomach rumbles and I squint at my watch. It's nearly ten by now. I need to go inside.

A twig snaps, and my breath catches in my throat. I recognize the sounds of someone trying to be quiet as they stumble out of the woods. I've made those noises plenty of times myself.

I hold my breath, concentrating on not making a sound. My heart is thumping so hard that I'm sure whoever is out here with me must be able to hear it. I'm afraid now, but then again, I already have a bloody chin. What more can they do?

I hear footsteps moving across the backyard and up the porch stairs, and as soon as I see a black pant leg I leap up, grab the hoodie person by the shoulders, and shove them against the back of the house. Even I am impressed by my own agility. I should have done a backflip during all of this to make it more impressive.

The hood falls over the person's face in such a way that I can't make out who it is. "I'm sick of your stupid games," I snap. They struggle and I knock them harder against the stone wall. I am very surprised that I'm able to hold this person, because, despite all of the gymnastics training, I've never been very strong.

Deciding that I better do something before they get away and potentially murder me, I shift myself so that only my left arm is gripping hoodie's shoulder, then use my free hand to grab their hood and yank it off.

I come face to face with my sister.

I get the same feeling that I had the night of Hanna's accident. I feel like I might pass out. I take a step back and nearly fall right down the steps.

Mona crosses her arms over the thick black hoodie. She looks a little scared and a little like she wants to murder me. Mostly the second one.

"What the hell?" I gasp. "What are you – what are you _doing?_ "

"Funny," she says, and her voice is strangely void of most emotion. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

My anger suddenly takes over again. "What am _I_ doing? I am bleeding because I thought somebody was trying to _break in!_ Now what are _you_ doing?"

She glances around, then grabs my arm and pulls me around to the side of the house, about ten feet down from my bedroom window. "I'll tell you, but not here."

…

Ten minutes later, we somehow managed to climb up the tree right outside my window, use the nearest branch to push open the window, and tumble into my room.

Now I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, holding a washcloth to my chin. Mona is pacing back and forth in front of me. The door is shut and locked.

This goes on for at least two minutes before I finally get fed up. "Start talking."

She folds her arms and asks, in that same flat tone, "Why were you waiting for me?"

"I wasn't waiting for _you,_ " I reply, rolling my eyes. "Well, okay. I _was_ waiting for you because I wanted to find out where you keep disappearing to, but once I saw someone in a black hoodie run off into the woods I figured they'd be back. I thought I was going to catch…" I almost say "A" but stop myself just in time. "Some burglar. You've got to admit, you're not wearing your usual clothes." I pause and shake my head, fed up with having the questions turned on me. "Now stop avoiding my questions. What were you doing?"

Mona leans back against my desk and reties her ponytail. "Fine. But you're making a big mistake."

That unnerves me a little, but I raise my eyebrows and gesture for her to continue. "Do you remember getting a text the night of Hanna's accident? From 'A'?"

"Yes. And I know that same person has been sending you messages. I saw the sticky note in the hall a few weeks ago, something about money. Isn't that what you're doing, trying to figure out who's doing this?"

She lets out a long, exasperated breath. "Wow, Viola. I really thought you were smarter than that."

"What?" I ask just as the pieces fall into place. The random note in the hallway, the black clothes, the constant sneaking out. "Oh my god," I mutter, the cloth dropping out of my hand. "You're not trying to find 'A.' You _are_ 'A.'"

My older sister smirks at me. "Bingo."

I stare at her, unable to comprehend this. "You're 'A,'" I say again, mostly to convince myself. "And you killed Alison."

"What?" Mona gasps, and her strange monotone finally begins to vanish. "Viola, I didn't _kill_ Alison."

Nothing makes sense right now. My chin stings and I press my finger to it. "Then why are you doing this? I talked to Ali's old friends the other day. They told me that they've been getting messages since the beginning of the school year."

She flinches. I don't think she realized how much I know. "It's nothing that they don't deserve."

"What, exactly, have you been doing to them?" I demand, crossing my arms. "Just texts?"

"Just texts," Mona confirms, sitting beside me on the bed. "And a few other notes. I haven't actually _done_ anything."

I shake my head, shifting away a little. "So just, like, cyber bullying?"

"Pretty much." She nods quickly. "I would never do anything to hurt them, especially Hanna. I just want them to know how I felt for all those years."

This still doesn't seem so innocent to me, but I'm beginning to understand. I really _can't_ imagine my sister actually hurting anyone, so I choose to believe her. I still have one question, though. "But why would you send me a text? What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing, Viola. I didn't want you to be part of this. But when you saw Aria and Mr. Fitz together…I was afraid you'd tell someone. It would ruin everything."

I grimace and look down at my lap. I don't like anything about this, and I have a feeling someone is going to end up getting hurt. "Okay. I believe you. I think what you're doing is absolutely insane, but I'm going to stay out of it. Just promise you won't do anything crazy."

Mona smiles. Her sudden giddiness is making me nervous. "I promise. It's fine." She leans over and inspects my chin. "I'll go get you a bandage."

I sigh, fall back onto the bed, and call after her, "You'd better change your clothes before Mom sees you."


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys, I am seriously on the verge of a total nervous breakdown. It is not even 10:30 in the morning and I somehow have to wait until 8:00 tonight?! Ugh. So here's a chapter that will hopefully give you all something to pass the time until tonight. As for the reviews...**

 **Pinkpoodle8 - Thanks! Those questions will be answered in a few chapters.**

 **nick2951 - Yes they do! And I think that follows canon, because I do recall Mona's parents (plural) being mentioned a few times. I guess I just figured he's away on business a lot or something?**

 **Siren of the Dark Seas - That is a very interesting thought...hmm...**

Chapter 6

"Okay, I give up." I throw my pencil down and roll over onto my back. "I'm good at chemistry but I can't figure out stupid geometry. Go figure."

Mona sighs and pulls my geometry book over to her to write something on it. "Here. You just need the equation to find the area of a trapezoid."

We are sitting on the floor of her bedroom working on homework. Fortunately for me, Mona is a genius who can help me with every class. Unfortunately for her, I am a grade below her and have not taken any of the classes she's in. Not that she needs my help or anything.

I sit back up and groan, "How do you remember that? I barely remember what I learned in class last week."

She smirks at me and goes back to her own work. "Just don't tell anyone."

Maybe it's because I'm really bored of doing homework, but that statement concerns me enough to keep talking. "Why not? Why do you always hide the fact that you're super-smart? You're smarter than, like, Spencer Hastings. If it was me I'd want everyone to know."

"Viola." Mona folds her legs under herself and faces me. "I spent years as a smart, nerdy loser. I've finally turned myself into someone different, someone who doesn't get made fun of. Why would I want to go back?"

I shrug and close my math book, moving on to English. "I just wish you'd feel comfortable being yourself."

She closes her eyes for a moment, then says sharply, in the same bitchy tone that I've gotten very used to, "Well, that's easy for you to say, isn't it?"

I flinch and redden. I hadn't meant anything rude by it. But I lean forward and look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. My dark hair is naturally straight and frizz free. My eyes are dark green, unlike most of my immediate family, and I have never even touched a contact lens in my life. My skin is olive and clear – I was lucky enough to never go through an awkward acne phase, even in middle school.

I've never thought of myself as exceptionally pretty or anything, but I guess I could look worse. I've never been labeled as a "loser," that's for sure. And people generally think I'm the older sister because of height differences, which probably doesn't help.

I look away from my reflection and glance over at Mona. "You're right. I'm sorry. I know you went through a lot."

She looks up at me, and looks for a second like she's about to say something nasty in return. I brace myself. But to my complete shock, the look fades and she laughs. "Oh my god, you're still talking about this? It's totally not a big deal." She takes my pencil and tosses it at me.

I cannot believe that I was not just screamed at, but I'm so relieved that I laugh, too. This is the most normal conversation we've had in months. I grab the pillow that I had been leaning against and throw it at her head just as our mother walks in.

"Getting any studying done, girls?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. But she's smiling, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't really care because she's so glad to see her daughters getting along for once. Without waiting for a response, she leans against the doorway, and adds, "I think there's something going on down at the church."

"What?" we exclaim at once, and I add, "What do you mean by 'something?'"

Mom shrugs, frowning. "I don't know. I've been hearing sirens for a while, and just a minute ago a few ambulances went by in that direction."

"That's weird," I comment just as Mona says, without looking up from her work, "Someone probably just fell or something."

My mom looks at us for another moment, and finally smiles and says, "That's probably it." She leaves, shutting the door behind her.

The second the door clicks closed, my sister is on her feet, pulling on a jacket and silently shoving open the window. "What are you doing?" I ask in alarm, scrambling up as well.

She tosses me an extra jacket from her closet. "We're sneaking out. Hurry up."

I am completely clueless but comply, tugging the jacket on over my long-sleeved shirt. I'm already in my pajamas but I'm too surprised to care. "Where are we going?" It's chilly outside and I still have two pages of an English essay to write.

Mona is already halfway out the window and looks at me like I'm completely insane. "Where do you think?"

…

"You know, the more I learn about Rosewood, the less desire I have to ever go there."

It's Sunday morning, and I'm leaning against the wall of the gym where gymnastics class takes place. Justin is standing next to me and we're looking up at the small TV in the corner, up by the ceiling. It's cracked in several places from where it was hit by a basketball a few years ago.

The sound is muted, but the headline says enough: "Rosewood News: Four Teen Girls Suspected in Disappearance of Ian Thomas."

My mind is still reeling from last night. By the time Mona and I had gotten to the church, the ambulances had left but a huge crowd had gathered, with Spencer, Aria, Emily, and Hanna right in the center of it. Everyone already knew the story.

Apparently, for some reason unknown to everyone, the girls called the police claiming that Ian Thomas was hanging by his neck from one of the ropes in the church bell tower. They didn't explain how or why he got there, but when the police showed up, the bell tower was conspicuously lacking in bodies.

It was pretty obvious to everyone that they lied about the entire thing.

To everyone but me. It seemed strange that they would make something like this up, especially considering Ian recently married Spencer's sister, Melissa. The thought of Ian Thomas actually being dead is not completely unappealing to me.

No, I'm not a sociopath, but at least I wouldn't have to see the face of the person who tried to sexually assault me every day at school anymore. It was driving me out of my mind.

But dead or not, he's gone, and no one aside from the four girls knows what happened. According to the news, the police have tried to contact Ian multiple times with no result. So he most likely didn't get up from the rafters and walk away.

Mona swore to me last night that she had nothing to do with this, that this wasn't some stupid "A" thing. She promised about ten times, and I even woke her up in the middle of the night to ask again, just in case. I'm pretty sure I believe her.

I told all of this to Justin as soon as break started ten minutes ago. Well, everything except for the parts about me being assaulted by a grown man and my older sister cyber bullying the girls who once bullied her. My life probably sounds crazy enough as it is. He doesn't need to know _everything._

"It's really not that bad, on a day to day basis," I try to reason. "I mean, we've got the usual elites and rich kids and drama at school, but all the lying and murders and possibly lying about murders is a pretty new thing."

Justin grins at me and I'm pretty proud of the fact that my heart barely even skips. I'm actually getting used to being around him, and I like his actual personality more and more each time. Mostly, I'm just surprised that he still talks to me.

"Well," he says, leaning against the wall beside me and taking a sip of water, "you guys might have all that, but we definitely have something you don't."

Now I'm intrigued. I smack him on the arm. "Okay, you can't just say something like that and then not tell me what it is. Come on."

"Okay, okay, fine." He pauses for a long moment, and I groan, shoving him. He laughs. "It's this creepy little store in town." He stops and thinks for a second. "Actually, I take that back. It's not even a store. It's a doll hospital."

"A doll _what?_ " I ask, smiling.

"A doll hospital," he repeats. "But it's real old and pretty much closed down by now. I've seen the old lady who owns it a couple times going in there, but it's never open. And that's not even the best part."

This story has nothing on what's been going on in Rosewood for the past few months, but I can't remember the last time I've been this entertained. "Go on," I urge.

He grins, clearly loving being the one to tell the story for once. "You should see the window display. It's filled with these old, creepy dolls. Like porcelain ones, you know."

"Oh, come on, that doesn't sound that bad," I interrupt, rolling my eyes.

He shakes his head vehemently. "Oh, no. You don't get it. Half of them have disembodied heads, or are hanging from the ceiling, stuff like that. It's really demented."

I try to picture this and shudder. "Ew. Okay, that does sound creepy."

He shrugs. "It's better when you really see it. The place is actually only a few blocks away. How about we walk there after class?"

I feel my eyes widen. Am I crazy to actually see this as a date? Probably, considering we're going to see the window display of a crazy old doll hospital. But still, Justin's never asked me to do anything one-on-one before, so if this is it, I'll take it.

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound casual. "I think I need to see this for myself."

He looks almost as excited as I feel. "Cool." Beth blows her whistle, signaling the end of break, and as soon as Justin turns his back to throw out his empty water bottle, I grin and pump my fist up. Just a little, though.

I wouldn't want to seem desperate or anything.

…

A week later, most of the drama surrounding Ian Thomas has settled down. I don't know most of the details, only that Ian's body was found with a suicide note and Spencer was suspected to be involved.

His funeral was a few days ago, and I couldn't have stayed far enough away. I spent the day hanging out with Justin instead, claiming I just needed a break from the craziness of Rosewood. I spent the whole afternoon hoping he would finally kiss me.

He did not.

But at least one of the biggest banes of my existence is gone. That sounds horrible, actually being relieved that another person is dead. But the last week at school has been so peaceful, walking through the hallways and around the cafeteria without having to keep one eye pealed for Ian, just in case I needed to duck into a bathroom or under a lunch table or something.

Now I pause outside the Apple Rose Grille, glancing at the menu taped to the window. It's only twelve o'clock and I'm starving. Maybe even too starving to make it back home.

As I'm studying the lunch options on the menu, I catch sight of something inside the restaurant. Hanna, Emily, Spencer, and Aria are sitting at a table together, along with…Mrs. DiLaurentis?

Why would they be having lunch with Alison's mother? I didn't even realize that she was back in Rosewood. After Alison disappeared, the DiLaurentis family got out of town very quickly. Apparently they didn't feel right staying in that house without Ali.

She stands up from the table, smiling, and hands out thin white boxes. Under the guise of looking at the menu, I watch as they each open their box and pull out very fancy looking dresses. I wonder immediately if they once belonged to Alison, and my assumption appears to be true, judging by the looks on their faces.

Mrs. DiLaurentis beams around the table and talks for a few more minutes before getting up and heading out. I turn slightly away as she passes me, even though I'm pretty sure she has no idea who I am. Then I push through the door and beeline right for the girls.

"Hey," I say, plopping down in Alison's mother's abandoned chair.

"Hey yourself," Spencer answers, raising her eyebrows. "I saw you watching us through the window."

I wince. Nothing gets by her. "Uh, yeah, I guess I was just surprised to see Alison's mother back in town. I don't think I've seen her since around the time of the funeral."

"I don't think this town has the happiest memories for her," Emily says a little sharply.

I ignore that and ask, nodding toward the boxes stacked on the table, "So what's with the dresses?"

Hanna takes a sip of water, looking uncomfortable. "Ali's mom asked us to wear them in the fashion show."

My eyebrows shoot up. The Rosewood Charity Fashion Show is a huge annual event – practically everyone who's anyone in town shows up, not just to donate to some good causes but also to show your friends and neighbors just how kind-hearted you are by giving the _biggest_ donation.

But this is one crazy Rosewood tradition that I can't really complain about. I mean, it's a huge popularity contest like everything else, but at least this time it actually benefits other people.

"She wants you to wear Ali's old dresses?" I ask, shuddering a little despite myself. "That sounds a little…"

"Creepy?" Aria fills in for me. "Yeah. I'm getting goose bumps just thinking about it."

"She's on the board for the fashion show," Spencer explains. "She wants to make it a tribute to Ali."

I'm a little surprised that I don't know this, as creepy as it seems to me. "Really? Mona's on the committee for the show. I'm surprised she didn't tell me."

"I'm on the committee, too," says Spencer. "But I've missed a few meetings lately."

"Come on, Spence," Hanna says, rolling her eyes not unkindly, "you've had a few other things on your mind."

"So are you guys really going to parade around in Alison's dresses?" I ask. Just the thought makes me a little nauseous. I can't imagine they're actually comfortable with it.

None of them look the slightest bit comfortable, as a matter of fact, but they all nod slowly. "It's the right thing to do," Emily says. "For Ali's mom. She really wants this."

I shrug, tracing one of the wooden crevices on the table with my finger. "That makes sense. I'd probably do the same thing."

For a second everyone is quiet. I can tell they want me to leave, and I'm just about to do so when Spencer speaks up. "Have you gotten any more texts? From 'A'?"

I freeze and drop back into my seat. "What?" I stutter, hoping my face hasn't gone completely pale. "No. Why do you ask?"

"We're still getting them," Aria whispers, leaning closer. "And we saw Ian's suicide note. We think that 'A' faked it."

They're all staring at me, waiting for my reaction. I lower my gaze to the table, trying to keep a neutral expression on my face. So "A" was involved in Ian's death, somehow. I am going to murder Mona when I get home. But I need more information first. "Why do you think that?" I mutter, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"The letter was completely made up of 'A' messages," Spencer tells me intently. "We think that 'A' did that on purpose, that whoever it is murdered Ian and tried to blame me for it. Why else would they take the body from the bell tower?"

My head is starting to feel a little foggy. I finally glance at each girl in turn, then say, "So you guys weren't lying that night? Ian really did try and kill you in the church?"

"He tried to push me off the bell tower," Spencer confirms. "But someone pushed him first."

"It had to have been 'A,' though, right?" Aria interjects. "This was all some elaborate plot to get us all thrown in jail."

I feel a little like I'm going to throw up. Every time I talk to these girls, it seems like things make less and less sense. Mona couldn't have pushed Ian off the bell tower. She was with me that night.

But I can't tell them that. I've kept the "A" secret for too long, and things have spiraled completely out of control. There's no way I can spill the beans now and walk away completely innocent.

So I try my best to ignore everything that just happened and stand up, nearly knocking over Hanna's glass of water in the process. "You know what?" I blurt out with a sharp laugh. "I just remembered. I'm late for a dentist appointment. I've gotta go. See you guys later."

I can feel their eyes on my back as I flee the restaurant, but I don't stop until I'm around the corner, out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, the finale was...underwhelming. Can't say I'm thrilled, and I'll definitely be changing the backstory a little when I get to it, just so it, you know...makes sense. Thanks to nick2951, RHatch89, Siren of the Dark Seas, and Pinkpoodle8 for the reviews. Please let me know what you think (next chapter is a big one!) and feel free to check out my newest story, "What Keeps Us Close."**

Chapter 7

My plan for staying out of the drama and away from the girls who seem to carry it with them has failed.

I'm now involved in the charity fashion show. And it's all my mother's fault.

She's been saying for a while now that I need to get more involved in things around town. Charity work, volunteering, that sort of thing. It's not that I don't like charity work. It's just that I don't like the people around here who are involved in charity work.

But then Mona had a complete meltdown in the middle of the night over the stupid programs for the show, and that spurred my mom to decide that me joining the committee would be the perfect way for me to "get involved" and also help my sister not totally lose her mind.

It's way too late for the second thing, but of course I can't tell my mother that.

So that's why I'm slumped down in the first row of seats along the side of the stage after school. The show is in two days so everything is mostly already in place. All that I really have to do is sit around and watch the run-throughs.

I should have gone to volunteer at the local soup kitchen instead. There, at least, there's no headache-inducing music and no one is freaking out. Just in the last five minutes, Mona has asked Aria why her legs are so short and Spencer has stormed off, claiming a migraine. I may not be far behind.

I wait impatiently until break, then lean over to my sister and hiss, "There is not a person in this room who does not want to murder you."

She smiles sweetly at me. "And who will they be thanking when this show is an amazing success? Now, be a doll and go get me some water."

I open and close my mouth a few times, but when I can't think of a good comeback, I swear under my breath and stomp off, wondering how quickly sleeping pills can dissolve in water.

…

It's kind of ironic that the one thing I would have liked to be involved in with this fashion show is actually being in it, but that's the one thing that I can't do.

By the time I got involved, there were more than enough models for all of the outfits, and under no circumstances was anyone willing to redo the staging for anything.

The fashion show is in full swing, and I'm sitting in the front row, taking pictures that I plan on sending in to the local newspaper. I've actually got to give my crazy sister some props – the show's amazing. The music is loud and fast and the models all look great. I almost wish I had gotten involved in this sooner.

Once the last outfit has been shown and the applause dies down, Spencer, Hanna, Aria, and Emily take to the stage as Noel, the appointed DJ, announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Rosewood High student committee would like to take a moment to pay tribute to one of their own, Alison DiLaurentis."

The lights dim as the projector on the back wall of the stage comes to life, filled with pictures of Alison. The girls stand in front of it, smiling out at the crowd, and it's actually really beautiful.

For about ten seconds.

Suddenly the music abruptly changes, the singer screeching out, " _Wake up everybody, because the bitch is back!"_

"Turn it off!" someone screams to Noel, as the picture of Alison on the screen is twisted and almost demonized. The word "bitch" is plastered across the screen.

"I can't!" Noel yells back. I twist around in my seat, watching him fumble around with his equipment. The crowd is screaming and watching in horror. Mrs. DiLaurentis rises from her seat and rushes up the aisle, Jason full-speed behind her. Spencer rushes off of the stage and shoves Noel out of the way, unplugging everything she sees until the screen finally goes black.

I stare around the room, my heart sinking. Some people are staring. Others are yelling, looking furious, and others are crying. The DiLaurentises are nowhere in sight.

My heart is pounding hard. I try to move from my seat and go backstage, but my legs feel like they're made of stone. This is too much. This is _way_ too much.

The audience clears out pretty quickly after that display. I wait until most people are gone, then storm backstage, pushing the curtain out of my way. Aria is the only one around, packing up her hair products. I walk right up to her and snap through clenched teeth, "Have you seen Mona?"

She obviously notices the venom in my voice. Her brow wrinkles and she says, "No. Not since the show started."

I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down. "What happened back there…that was totally an 'A' message, right?"

Aria fumbles with a can of hair spray and drops it. "It was Noel," she says quietly. "He had the CD."

What? _Noel?_ That is completely impossible, but I go with it. "Um, so you think Noel might be 'A'?"

"I – " Aria starts, then looks over my shoulder and puts her finger to her lips. I turn. Jason DiLaurentis is walking up.

"Hey," he says to Aria, "I thought you might need a ride home?"

"Oh. Sure," she answers, zipping up her bag. "Thanks."

He looks over at me, looking a little surprised. "Viola. Hey. Need a ride?"

I have a hard time meeting his eyes, but I manage to just long enough to say, "Um, I should probably wait for my sister. But thanks."

"I'll talk to you later, alright?" Aria says with a pointed look. I nod, and she walks off with Jason, leaving me alone with another memory.

…

 _I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting in the middle of the cold sidewalk. My back was aching, my eyes seemed to be out of tears, and my head was still spinning. I was beginning to wonder if I really had only had one beer. It didn't seem like it and I couldn't even remember anymore._

 _I pushed my hair out of my eyes, trying to compose myself before mustering the strength to stand up, when a dark car pulled up along the street beside me. I leapt to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no idea what kind of car Ian drove, but I wasn't about to take any chances that he was back to finish what he started, and was just about to run when the window rolled down._

 _Alison's older brother leaned over the passenger seat to look at me. It took me a minute to recognize him. He was already out of high school…actually, he was the same age as Ian and Melissa. Other than that, though, I didn't know much about him._

 _"_ _Hey," he called, leaning out the window a little. "You alright?"_

 _"_ _Um, yeah," I answered, wiping my eyes on my arm. "I'm fine."_

 _He raised his eyebrows, looking me up and down, though in more of a concerned way than a creepy one. "You don't look fine. Why don't I give you a ride home?"_

 _The last thing I wanted to do was get in a car with a practical stranger, especially a man in his mid-twenties. I tried to take a step back, but my head felt like it was about to split open as soon as I moved my legs. There was no way that I would be able to walk home like this. And I couldn't call my mom to come and get me. She would ask too many questions._

 _So I sighed and jumped into the passenger seat of the car before I could think too hard about it. "Thanks."_

 _"_ _No problem." He put the car in drive and pulled away from the sidewalk. I averted my eyes from the window when we passed Sean's house. "You're a Vanderwaal, right?"_

 _I glanced over at him, suspicious of basically everything and everyone right now. "Yeah. How do you know that?"_

 _I must have sounded more alarmed than I thought, because he laughed and said, "Calm down. I just guessed. Alison pointed out your sister to me one day. You look a lot like her."_

 _Why did Alison do that? I wondered, pressing my hand to my pounding forehead. And would Jason be being nice to me if he knew what I said to his sister just an hour ago? Or was it two hours? The clock in the car said that it was after midnight._

 _"_ _Turn left here," I groaned when we got to Main Street. "My house is a few blocks up."_

 _Jason turned the wheel, and glanced at me once the car was straight again. "You look rough. Too much to drink?"_

 _I tried to smile but achieved more of a grimace. "Um. I guess. Something like that."_

 _"_ _You don't remember?" he asked, though he barely sounded surprised. "You better be careful. That stuff can seriously screw you up. Trust me." He paused for a second, shaking his head. "I'd know."_

 _I studied him out of the corner of my eye. What did that mean? Did Jason basically just admit to me that he was an alcoholic? Granted, I had never had much to do with the DiLaurentis family, aside from avoiding Alison every time I saw her, but they always seemed like one of the typical Rosewood perfect families to me, Jason included. I had never imagined that he was a drinker._

 _"_ _It was just a bad night," I mumbled, leaning my head against the window. "I don't usually drink."_

 _"_ _Good," he said as the car pulled up in front of my house. "This it?"_

 _"_ _Yeah." I undid my seatbelt and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride. I think I'm gonna try and make coffee without my mom noticing."_

 _"_ _Wait." Jason reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. My eyes widened and my heart skipped. I recoiled away. But he didn't move, didn't even take his other hand off of the steering wheel. "Bad idea. Coffee won't help you now. Go in and go to sleep, make coffee in the morning. A lot of it."_

 _That was good advice, aside from the fact that I never drank coffee. "My mom can't find out I was drinking," I pleaded. "She'll kill me."_

 _"_ _She won't find out," Jason said reassuringly. "Get up an hour earlier to make the coffee. Rinse the pot out when you're done and light a candle. No one has to know."_

 _I felt my nerves begin to subside and took a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks again."_

 _"_ _No problem," he said, nodding casually and putting the car back into gear. "Better get inside before your parents catch you."_

 _My mom might have killed me if she found out I was drinking, but my father would do way worse if he caught me in a car with an older guy. An_ adult. _I scrambled out of the car and waved as he sped off._


	8. Chapter 8

**This is it, guys. Big things are about to happen. Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, and Siren of the Dark Seas for the reviews. I appreciate the support!**

 **In this chapter, "A" is finally revealed, and Viola learns just how involved the game really is.**

Chapter 8

"You know, you really didn't have to come." My mask shifts to cover my eyes and I reach up to adjust it. "I've always thought masquerades are kind of freaky."

"I think they're cool." Justin reaches over and takes my hand. A shiver shoots up my spine.

We walk into the Old Road Warehouse, which is already stuffed to the brim with people. Since the dance is hosted by the Rosewood Junior Society, most people here are probably teenagers. But since everyone is wearing fancy ballroom dresses and masks, it's kind of hard to tell.

The back doors of the warehouse are open, leading into a large courtyard, and the huge room has been filled with strands of lights. Music is pumping from the DJ stand along one wall.

Justin and I descend the short set of stairs and plunge into the crowd of dancers. He yells above the music, looking around at the hordes of faceless people, "Okay, you were right. This is a little freaky."

"I know!" I shout back to him. A tallish girl in a dress made completely of black feathers and a matching mask brushes past me and I squint, trying to see if I recognize her. Not everyone would have the guts to wear a costume like that.

"Do you see anyone you know?" Justin asks, swaying to the music a little. "I doubt anyone from Brookhaven is here."

"Um…" I turn in a circle, looking around. I spot Hanna dancing with Caleb, and Mona and Spencer talking nearby. That makes me nervous, but I wave and turn back to Justin. "Yeah. A few people."

I shake my head, trying to forget about the "A" drama for just one night. "Come on, let's dance."

We dance for what seems like minutes, but every time I look at the clock, more and more time has passed. After a series of fast pop songs, the DJ changes to something slower. A little too slow to be not awkward, I decide. And anyway, we've been dancing for over an hour. I really should get something to drink.

"Hey, why don't we take a break?" I suggest to Justin, very aware of all the couples slow-dancing around us.

"Good idea," he replies, but his voice sounds strange. "I just have to do one thing first."

I'm expecting him to walk off when he suddenly leans down, puts his hand on the back of my head, and kisses me.

I am too shocked to respond for a moment. I have been aware for the past few weeks that we are much more than friends, but I had never even considered this.

But the one thought that won't leave my mind is that this is _much_ different than kissing Ian.

He pulls away and turns bright red. "I...sorry."

I laugh and put my hand on his shoulder. "Sorry for what?"  
He is just starting to lean in again when someone grabs my arm and yanks me away hard. I whirl around. Aria is standing beside me, an urgent look on her face. "Viola, we need to talk to you." I notice Hanna and Emily standing a little ways away.

I know what this is about but I can't help but be irritated. "Uh, I'm a little busy right now."

Justin holds up his hands in surrender. "Hey, it's fine. I'll go get us some punch. Be right back."

As soon as he is out of sight, Hanna and Emily rush over. The three girls pull me to the edge of the room, away from the music and other people. "What's going on?" I ask, fed up. I really should just blow the lid on this stupid secret. I'm not even sure why I am so bent on protecting my sister, aside from fear of my own secret getting out.

"Do you know who that is?" Hanna asks, pointing across the room. I stand as tall as I can in my heels and follow her finger. She's pointing at the girl in the black swan dress, of course.

"No, I don't," I answer. "Why?"

"We saw her talking to Jenna and Lucas just a few minutes ago," Emily explains. "We think she has something to do with 'A.'"

I stare at the black swan for a moment, considering. I obviously know way less about the "A" situation than I think I do. "Wait. Jenna and Lucas are involved?"

They all look at me, and Aria opens her mouth, but before she can speak Hanna says in a hushed voice, "She's leaving. Come on!"

We all turn and watch the anonymous girl head toward the exit. Aria, Hanna, and Emily rush after her, and I stand in a panic for a moment before rushing after them. "Wait!" The black swan reaches the exit and pushes through the door. Aria grabs it just after it closes and pulls hard, but it doesn't budge. "It's locked."

I still don't understand the significance of this person. "Where's Spencer?" I ask, suddenly realizing that the fourth member of this group is gone.

"She and Mona went back to the Lost Woods Resort," Emily says. "She thinks they're going to find something there."

"Something about 'A'?" I ask in alarm. Why would Mona lead Spencer on some stupid goose chase? I must be missing something here.

"Maybe," Hanna whispers. "Or something about the night Ali went missing."

"Huh?" I say just as Hanna continues, "They've been gone a while. That's it, I'm calling Spencer." She pulls out an oddly old phone and holds it up. "That's weird."

"What?" Aria asks, glancing over her shoulder.

Hanna looks disturbed. "My phone's set to record every time it's on," she says in confusion, holding it out to show Emily and me. I have never even seen that option on a phone before.

"I'll call her," Aria speaks up, grabbing her own phone and selecting the option for a video call. The phone rings for a few long moments before the screen lights up.

The angle is very strange, but the person the phone is focused on is very clearly my sister, driving a car and wearing a familiar black hoodie. "I had to get you out here alone, so we could talk."

The girls around me gasp as we hear Spencer reply, "Okay. Just slow down, okay? Let's talk."

"You had to earn it," Mona says, her voice just as void of emotion as the night that I caught her in our yard. "The right to be a part of it."

Emily glances up at me, her eyes wide. I squeeze mine shut tightly, trying to breathe. "You didn't see Ali in Brookhaven," Spencer's voice comes through the phone, frantic. "She saw you, didn't she? You just made that story up."

Mona smiles. "We're in this together now. I admire you, Spencer. That's why you get to decide how this ends, tonight. You can join the 'A' team, or you can disappear."

 _Team?_ This is beginning to seem like a lot more than just cyber bullying. "You – you almost killed Hanna," Spencer gasps. "She's my friend. I thought she was your friend, too."

It takes me a second to comprehend those words. Then my mind flashes back to the night of the party. The night Hanna got hit by a car.

I may throw up.

"It's easier to forgive an enemy than it is to forgive a friend."

"Oh, my God," Emily mutters, her face ghostly white.

"It's Mona," Aria adds. Hanna is mute, and so am I. I am trying not to hyperventilate.

"How did you do it?" Spencer also sounds like she is trying not to hyperventilate. "How could you be everywhere? You were always one step ahead of us."

"You're not the only genius in this car," Mona snaps, and in a twisted way I'm sort of glad to finally hear her admit it. "You bitches underestimated me."

"You're never going to make it to Lookout Point if you don't _slow down."_

Aria shuts off her phone, shoving it back into her purse. "They're going to Lookout Point. I know a shortcut. Come on."

Aria and Emily rush toward the exit, and I begin to follow when I realize that Hanna hasn't moved. "Hanna, come on," I plead, grabbing her arm. I am not going to let those girls confront my sister without me there. It strikes me that I would very much like to push her _off_ of Lookout Point.

She told me this was just some stupid cyber bullying thing, that it was only texting. She told me that no one was going to get hurt. _And I believed her._ I kept her stupid secret for months, assuming that there was no way my own sister could actually do anything bad…that there was no way she could do to someone else what Alison did to her.

I know I should feel betrayed, but I've never felt angrier. "Mona's 'A,'" Hanna whispers, shaking her head.

I spot Justin, heading toward us with a cup of punch in each hand, and feel my heart skip. I want nothing more than to forget about all of this and get back to dancing with my first real boyfriend.

But I can't back out now. "Come on," I say sharply, pulling her along after the others. I glance over my shoulder at Justin, who is watching me practically run off with a frown and furrowed brow. My stomach lurches again.

We pile into Hanna's car and she floors it out of the parking lot. She looks so close to an emotional breakdown that I'm not sure she should be driving, but it seems like they all arrived together, and I don't have a car, so this is our only option.

Aria, sitting beside me in the back seat, puts her hand on my arm. "Are you alright?" she asks between giving directions to Hanna.

I shake my head, clutching my purse so tightly that my knuckles turn white. "My sister has been torturing you guys for months. No, I'm not really okay."

We are all silent for the next few minutes as Hanna winds the car up toward Lookout Point. I have never gotten motion sickness, but my stomach is churning so badly that I'm sure I'm about to throw up. The others all look the same.

Two small figures at the top of the cliff grow larger as we get closer. Spencer rushes past, her dress torn. Mona runs in front of the car after her. Hanna does not slow down.

"Hanna, slow down!" Emily yells.

"Stop!" I scream, just as Hanna presses hard on the brake. The car slams to a stop inches from my sister. The irony of that situation would probably make me laugh if I wasn't so horrified.

Mona lets out a scream unlike anything I have ever heard in my life, and bolts after Spencer, tackling her to the ground. I cry out and leap out of the car, the older girls following immediately. I grab Emily by the arm, watching helplessly as Spencer is nearly thrown right over the cliff.

But it is my sister who ends up going over, slipping on the rocks and falling out of sight before any of us can blink. The five of us scream simultaneously as the rest of us run to Spencer's side. My vision goes blurry.

What happens next does not really register with my brain. I hear someone on the phone with 911, sirens blaring up the winding road to the side of the cliff, and voices talking around me as for some reason the girls' therapist, Dr. Sullivan, appears on the scene.

Mostly I just hear my own sobbing.

"Viola." I hear the therapist's voice nearby. I snap back to real life and feel like I've just woken up from a dream. An ambulance is just behind me, and I'm standing between Dr. Sullivan and Spencer. The doctor has her hand on my shoulder. "It's alright. You're alright now. It's over."

I am just about to try and ask for my parents when a yell comes echoing up from the bottom of the cliff. "She's alive!"

The words pierce through me like I just got struck by lightning or something. Everyone's heads snap around to stare. The sound of a watch going off breaks through the silence.

…

"She was living in a state of hyper reality. The adrenaline rush that accompanied her feelings of empowerment and her high level of intelligence fueled Mona's ability to be seemingly all-knowing and omnipresent."

Dr. Sullivan's words sound like a dull droning in my ringing ears. I am so tired that I can barely see my sister sitting on the other side of the two-way mirror in front of us, wrapped in a straight jacket and staring catatonically ahead. That's a good thing, because otherwise I would probably have a panic attack.

My parents are on a weekend trip in Philadelphia. Well, they _were_ on a weekend trip. The hospital called them and they are on their way home. I try to imagine what they must be thinking and quickly stop. It's too painful.

"Will she always be like this?" Hanna asks what we're all thinking, her voice wavering.

Dr. Sullivan glances over at her. "With therapy and the right medications, people with these types of personality disorders can get better."

A shudder runs through me. _Personality disorder. Hyper reality. Omnipresent._ I feel like _I_ am living in an alternate reality. I knew my sister was a special brand of crazy, but not like this. As much as I miss the girl with the dorky glasses, I'd take Pretty Major Bitch over Completely Crazy any day of the week.

Another doctor peeks in the room to get Dr. Sullivan's attention, and they both exit the room. We follow. "Do you need a ride home, Viola?" Spencer asks quietly.

I wrap my arms around myself as we step into the cool outside air. "No. I think I'll just walk. My parents will be home soon."

"You think you'll be okay by yourself?" Emily asks. "You must be pretty shaken up."

I do not think that at all, but I also don't think I can be around everyone anymore. All I want is to go home and cry. "Yeah, I'll be fine." I take a few steps in the other direction, then take a deep breath, stop, and turn around. "Guys."

The four girls turn back to me. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, tears burning in my eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Viola," Hanna says, reaching out to touch my arm. "You didn't know."

I wonder briefly if I should tell them. I could let them believe that I was as in the dark about "A" as they all were.

But lying is what got us all into this mess in the first place. I'm done with lying. For good. So I sigh and say, "I knew that Mona was 'A.' I've known for a few months."

Their expressions of pity dissolve into ones of shock. " _What?_ " Spencer gasps, just as Aria repeats, "You _knew?_ "

The last thing I want is to be yelled at, so I shrug and say again, "I'm sorry, you guys," and walk off before they can say anything more.

I hear sirens grow closer and several ambulances zoom by me in the opposite direction. I pause for a moment and watch them disappear around the corner, in the direction of the DiLaurentis house, and wonder if I should investigate.

But I'm too tired. My head feels like it is going to split in two, and I can barely breathe, my throat is so tight with held-back tears. I yank off my heels and run the rest of the way home, check my phone and find four missed calls from my parents and six from Justin, then fall onto my bed and burst into tears.

...

 **Please review and let me know what you think! Next chapter, five months have passed and Viola is still dealing with the aftereffects.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here we go, chapter nine! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as usual. This chapter starts five months after the masquerade. Yes, that's right...welcome to season three.**

Chapter 9

"Hi. I'm here to visit a patient."

I've always hated hospitals. They're too white and too clean. They're impersonal, is what they are. Even though I'm sure the bright lights and white tile floors are supposed to seem open and inviting, they make me feel like I'm going to suffocate.

I've only had to go to the hospital once, when I was seven years old. Mona dared me to climb to the highest branch of the big tree in our backyard and I wasn't going to take the ego hit of refusing. I did it, too, and it would have been very impressive if I hadn't fallen on my way back down and broken my arm.

I remember crying from the pain, but I also remember crying harder when I first walked into the hospital. I felt like I was never going to come out, like the hospital was so bright and sterile that this must be where you go only when you're about to die.

Apparently mental hospitals are no different.

I've been aware of Radley Sanitarium my whole life. With its looming architecture and the huge metal fence surrounding it, it's hard to miss. It's right outside of Rosewood, just about a five minute drive from our house.

Despite that, I had never set foot in there in my life, and never planned to.

Until five months ago.

I go a few times a week now, especially since I got my driver's license and with it, a new car. It's nicer than I was expecting. My parents probably felt guilty.

I go more than they do, now. I'm better at it. My parents don't know what to say, how to act. Whenever all three of us go together, my dad usually sits in an uncomfortable silence and my mom cries while I jabber on forever about nothing.

The first time I went, I basically went nuts. I yelled and cried and threatened and did everything you are not supposed to do to a mental patient. The nurse made me leave and told me that I will be banned if I ever do that again.

I've been more composed since then, though I feel a swell of anger every time I so much as walk through the doors. I just manage to keep it on the inside, now.

Most of the nurses here know me by name, but the one at the desk this morning is new. She looks up, studies me for a second, and slides the registration book over to me. "Sign in and give me your name for a visitor's pass."

I know the drill. I sign in with my information and tell her, "My name is Viola Vanderwaal. I'm here to see my sister?"  
The nurse turns to her computer and types for a moment. "Mona Vanderwaal?" I nod, and she hands me a visitor's pass, which I clip to my shirt. "Come with me." She pushes a button on her desk and the doors behind her buzz open.

She leads me down a long hallway, through a door, and down another long hallway before we arrive at one specific door that I could easily have found myself. But whatever. Protocol and all.

"Go on in," the nurse instructs, opening the door for me and walking away.

I take a deep breath, fix a big smile on my face, and step into the room. My sister sits on the edge of the bed, staring straight ahead as usual. "Hey," I say cheerfully. "It's just me today. I asked Mom if she wanted to come, but she really wanted to get some gardening done today. It's really nice out."

She would not know this, because there are no windows in this room. The walls are gray stone, and all that's in here is a cot that is barely passable as a bed, a desk and chair, and a small dresser filled with identical drab hospital gowns. There is a small bathroom off to the side.

The second time I came here I asked the nurse if I could thumbtack some paintings or photos or something to the wall. She asked me if I really thought it was a good idea to give thumbtacks to a mental patient.

I saw her point.

I wander aimlessly around the room, fiddling with my hands. "You know, I really wish you'd snap out of it long enough to tell me what you do in here all day. Or, I mean, what most people do. It seems pretty boring to me."

It does not appear that Mona has even noticed that I am in the room. She is still staring straight ahead, right at the door, barely even blinking. It's a little scary. I keep telling my mother that they really need to change her meds, because is being catatonic really better than being nuts? But she cries every time I bring it up, so I've stopped.

I clear my throat and keep talking. I've gotten very good at these monologues over the past few months. It's basically like talking to myself. "So I've been thinking about this whole 'hyper reality' thing. Is it, like, genetic, do you think? Maybe I have it and I don't even know. I wonder if I should get, I don't know, tested or something."

It occurs to me too late how horrible this sounds. I am not sure if she can even hear me, but just in case, I immediately change tactics. "Oh my god. That came out wrong. Actually, it sounds pretty cool. Like, most mental disorders sound awful and scary, right? But living in an adrenalized hyper reality actually sounds more like a super power. So you're pretty much a superhero."

I sound like such an idiot. I want to hit myself in the mouth. Instead I shake my head hard to try and bounce out some of the stupid, pull up the little chair, and sit down across from her. "Okay. So I've been getting to know this guy recently. I think he might really like me."

I am not talking about Justin, even though I kind of wish I was. Ever since the masquerade ball, he has avoided me as much as possible. We're still partners in gymnastics and still talk to each other and are friendly, but it seems like any chance of romance between us is gone.

I can't really blame him. I mean, he has no idea why I ditched him that night, the night he finally kissed me, and I never bothered to try and explain. He probably thinks I'm a total bitch. And I probably am.

As far as I know, he has no idea that my sister is certifiably crazy now. And I would prefer to keep it that way. Maybe eventually we can build our relationship up again.

But that doesn't mean I have to stay single until that happens.

"You know him," I go on, smiling. "He's in your grade. I always thought he was a jerk, but I've seen him at a few parties over the summer and he's pretty cool, actually. Noel Kahn."

I have been coming here for five months and Mona has neither spoken to me nor looked at me. But as soon as Noel's name leaves my lips, her eyes focus on mine and her voice comes out in a monotone. "Stay away from Noel."

I jump so badly that my chair squeaks on the linoleum floor. I lean back in my seat and gape. Out of all the things I have said today, _this_ is what she chooses to respond to? I feel like I should get the nurse and tell her about this breakthrough, but then I remember that the doctors always seem to say that when this sort of thing happens, the best thing to do is treat it like it's totally normal.

And if I go and get the nurse, that means I won't get any information.

So I frown and say, "What? Why not? I mean, I know you kind of had a thing with him last year, but come on. That was only for, like, two weeks. It's not a big deal."

She is looking at me so intently that I start to squirm, and says again, in that same strange voice, "Stay away from Noel."

I wonder why, out of all things, she seems to care the most about me dating her old boyfriend. Then it occurs to me that, as "A," she probably learned more about people than I realize. I shudder a little and ask quietly, "Why? Did he do something?"

"Stay away from Noel."

"Mona," I say gently, reaching out and taking hold of her wrists, "you are really starting to freak me out. What is going on? What are you talking about?"

She opens her mouth again and I hold my breath, hoping for something other than that same stupid sentence, but then she catches sight of something over my shoulder and smiles.

I let go of her hands and whirl around in my chair. There is nothing behind me, but now I am officially chilled to the bone. I rise from my seat, sling my purse over my shoulder, and say shakily, "I have to go. I'll see you in a couple days, okay?"

I return my visitor's pass to the front desk and head out. As I'm walking to my car, I pull out my phone and send an impulsive text to Noel: _I don't think this is going to work out. I'm sorry._

His reply comes as soon as I pull into my driveway.

 _Crazy must run in the family._

…

It is within the first five minutes of gymnastics class the next day when I realize that I need to tell Justin the truth.

It's not like the idea dawns on me from out of nowhere. I've known this for a long time. It's not fair that he thinks I totally ditched him that night for no good reason. As much as I'm afraid that he'll think I'm insane, he needs to know.

The first hour of class ticks by painfully slowly. Finally, 3:59 turns to 4:00 and Beth calls for break. Justin stands from his mat and heads for the vending machine. I rush after him and grab onto his arm. "Justin. Wait."

He flinches and turns. "Hey. What's up?"

I notice the same flat tone in his voice that he's been using with me since the night of the dance. "Can we talk? Somewhere private? There's something I need to tell you."

He looks like he gets it as he follows me to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. "This is about the masquerade, right?"

"Right," I exhale, relieved that he knows what I'm talking about. "I never explained to you why I ran out of there. You deserve an explanation."

He raises his eyebrows and leans against the wall, gesturing for me to go on. I take a deep breath and begin.

"Okay, it's kind of a long story. Back around the beginning of last school year, I got this anonymous text from some person called 'A.' They threatened to expose my biggest secret. I found out that a couple girls a year older than me were getting them, too, but way worse."

"So cyber bullying?"

"Pretty much. I wasn't so bothered by it until I found out that the person behind the whole thing was my sister. The girls she was targeting had bullied her pretty badly back in junior high, and this was her way of getting back at them."

He interrupts and snorts. "That sounds mature."

I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself. "It gets better. I kept her secret because I honestly thought she was just trying to give those girls a taste of their own medicine. But then the night of the masquerade, my sister took one of the girls to Lookout Point. You know it?"

Justin's eyes are wide. He nods slowly. "That huge cliff, right?"

I gulp, the memories of that horrible night coming back to me. "Spencer – that's the name of the girl – video called one of her friends. That's what I was doing when you came up to me. My sister was driving her and she was…I don't know, it's like she had a mental break or something. She was acting completely…psycho."

He stares at me, at rapt attention. I hear Beth back in the gym, calling for the end of break, but neither of us moves. "So I went with the other girls up to Lookout Point, and Spencer and my sister got into a huge fight. My sister…fell."

Justin's mouth drops open. "Off the cliff?"

"She's fine," I say hastily. "I mean, physically. They diagnosed her with a personality disorder and she's been in Radley ever since."

I cough and go silent, watching his reaction. There's silence between us for a few long moments. I feel my heart sink. He probably doesn't even believe me. He probably thinks that _I'm_ crazy. I never should have told him all of this.

But then he reaches out and pulls me to him in a hug. "God, Viola, why didn't you tell me that months ago?"  
I'm so surprised that it takes me a minute to respond. "I don't know. I was embarrassed, I guess. Not everyone has a sister in a mental hospital."

Justin releases me and sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "My uncle committed suicide," he says matter-of-factly. "When I was ten. He was depressed for most of his life. So I get it. I'm no stranger to mental problems."

Now it's my turn to hug him. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."

He pulls back and smiles. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I've been acting like such a jerk to you since then. I just figured…" He trails off and laughs a little. "I figured you were so freaked out by the kiss that you couldn't get away fast enough."

"No!" I exclaim earnestly. "Not at all! I actually really liked you. I…still like you."

"I like you, too," he replies, and my heart lifts. "But maybe we should start out just being friends. We'll take it slow, like we did before."

I would much prefer to jump right in and start dating, but I'm aware that this is the more rational solution, especially considering I have a lot else going on right now. "Yeah," I say just as Beth appears around the corner, yelling at us to get back in the gym this instant, "that sounds good."

...

 **Be sure to let me know what you think, as always! I'm going to try and put up a chapter of "What Keeps Us Close" today as well. As for this story, in the next chapter, it's the start of a new school year and Viola must finally deal with the girls for the first time since the masquerade.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Considering I only got one review on the last chapter, I wasn't feeling very enthusiastic about updating...pretty disappointing considering I usually get such great feedback. But I already have so much of this written that I figured I'd keep going. Thanks to RHatch89 for being my lone reviewer for chapter nine.**

Chapter 10

I stick the cap back on my eyeliner and evaluate my reflection. It's the first day of my junior year, and I'm having trouble concentrating on my makeup.

Out of all days, the first day of school is most important. It's always been that way, although last year all I was concerned with was reassuring people that I didn't turn into either a nerd or loser over the summer.

This year I have bigger problems. Now I have to reassure people that my life is still normal, that crazy doesn't run in the family, and that I am not about to go on a torturous rampage and follow in the footsteps of my sister.

I'm sure that rumors have been spreading all summer. Even Macy, my so-called best friend, has been distancing herself more and more. Once you have the stigma of a mental illness in your family, you can kiss popularity goodbye.

Thank god it wasn't something I ever really cared about, anyway.

Even so, I can't help my nerves as I walk downstairs to get some breakfast. For the first time, neither of my parents are here to wish me good luck on my first day. My father is off on another month long business trip, his first time away since the incident, and my mother is at work early.

I sit down at the counter and pour myself a bowl of cereal, glancing up at the television. It's muted, but as soon as a picture of Alison comes up on the screen my appetite goes out the window.

Just a few nights ago, someone dug up her grave. And stole her body.

Out of everything that has happened in this town over the past few months, including yet another murder in the very same backyard – Emily's girlfriend, Maya, who I never really knew – this has to take the cake. What kind of sicko would actually want to steal a rotting corpse?

The strange part is, there are absolutely no leads as to who could have done this. Even days later, there are no suspects. Even Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and Emily, who seem to always be in the middle of everything that ever happens in this town, were out at Spencer's lake house the night the grave-digging took place. And Garrett, the sketchy cop suspected of killing Maya, and maybe even Ali, is in jail.

I grab the remote and switch the television off, frowning. The sad part is, Alison would have loved this, being in the middle of so much drama. That seemed to be what she always lived for.

Too bad she's not alive now to see it.

…

It's only the second day of school when I'm pulled right back into the drama.

People have been staring at me since yesterday, hiding whispers behind their hands, and it's getting pretty annoying. I know that confronting someone would only add fuel to the fire, so I try to duck into the bathroom between every class to get a break.

Usually there aren't many people in there, but when I enter between second and third period today, four girls turn to stare at me.

"Hey," I say awkwardly to Hanna, Emily, Spencer, and Aria. I haven't spoken much to them since the night of the masquerade, when I confessed that I'd known more about "A" than I had let on.

They all exchange glances that make me a little nervous. I'm just about to enter a stall when Spencer says, "Viola. We know what's going on."

The sudden aggression in her voice is startling. My eyes widen and I turn back around to face them. "Um. What do you mean?"

"What?" Aria demands angrily. "You thought that you'd take over the game now that your crazy sister's locked up in the loony bin?"

I stare at them, trying to gauge from their expressions just what is going on. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about," I insist. "Seriously. What is going on?"  
"Save it, Viola," Hanna snaps, digging her phone out of her purse and holding it out to me. "This look familiar?"

I gasp at the text on the screen.

 _Mona played with dolls, I play with body parts. Game on, bitches. –A_

"You mean…it's starting again?" I ask, staring at the "A" on the small screen. " 'A' is back?"  
"Come on," Emily says. "We know it was you who cleared out the 'A' lair and took over the game. Or you're helping Mona do it herself."

I laugh in disbelief, backing up against the sink. "Mona is catatonic in Radley," I say, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of me. "And I'm not doing anything. What do you mean, the lair was cleaned out?"  
Once again, they all glance at each other. I'm beginning to get irritated with being so out of the loop. "The three of us went there," Spencer explains, gesturing to herself, Aria, and Hanna, "the day after Maya died. To clear it out ourselves before anyone else found it. But everything was already gone."

This is mildly alarming, considering that lair apparently contained all sorts of private information on basically everyone. "Okay, that's bad," I admit, crossing my arms. "But I had nothing to do with it and I don't know who did. I swear."

Hanna rolls her eyes. "Well, I figured you weren't the one who dug up the grave and drugged Emily."

My head snaps up just as Spencer hisses, " _Hanna."_

"What?" Hanna replies, confused.

"Someone drugged Emily?" I repeat, horrified. "Wait. Go back. Why would someone do that?"

"We were all together that night. At Spencer's house," Aria confesses, looking worriedly at the others. "Someone drugged Emily in the middle of the night. We found her right next to the empty grave."

"Oh my god," I murmur. It's true. These girls really _are_ in the middle of everything. "That's insane." I focus my gaze on Emily, who looks uncomfortable and actually pretty upset. I don't blame her. "So someone kidnapped you that night? Who was it?"  
"I don't remember," Emily says, shaking her head. "I barely remember anything about that night. It's all a big blur."

The lake house ruse makes sense now. "It seems like some crazy person is trying to set you guys up for stealing Alison's body," I say, lowering my voice a little.

"Yeah," Spencer mutters, looking at me intently. "And who's the craziest person we all know?"

I resist the urge to bang my head against the bathroom wall. "There is absolutely no way that Mona is still involved in this. She can barely feed herself right now, let alone orchestrate some elaborate 'A' game. Forget it."

"It's true," Hanna pipes up. I raise my eyes to look at her, surprised. She shrugs. "I've been visiting her, too. For the past few weeks."

I think back to the registration book at Radley. A particular name sticks out in my memory. "Rivers?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. She smiles, and I roll my eyes. Rivers is Caleb's last name. I should have known.

"And that's not all." Spencer reaches into her bag and pulls out a photograph. She hands it to me and I study it. It's an aerial shot of the four girls standing beside the empty grave. "Someone took pictures of us that night, when we went to find Emily. 'A' has proof that we were there."

"Holy crap," I blurt out, staring down at it. " 'A' really is trying to set you up."

"Exactly," says Spencer. "This is way more serious than just some stupid game. And I get that you don't believe that Mona could still be involved, but you need to talk to her. Get answers, somehow. Soon."

Part of me is itching with curiosity, but the thought of getting involved with these girls again is making my head spin. So far, at least, this new "A" hasn't tried to involve me in their twisted blame game.

"No," I say so sharply that they all jump. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm not getting involved again. 'A' is trying to frame you guys for something serious. I'm not messing around with that."

"Viola – " Hanna begins, cutting off an angry looking Spencer, but I back up toward the door and push out of the bathroom before she can continue.

I spin around in the hallway, my mind reeling, and nearly collide with Noel. I open my mouth, hoping to explain, but he sneers at me and pushes me out of his way. I'm knocked sideways into a locker and everyone around me laughs.

I straighten back up and grimace, rushing down the hall and to my next class. As much as I want to deny it, this seems like the new normal now.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter, Viola receives a surprising visitor, and an even more surprising offer.**


	11. Chapter 11

**This is a big one, guys. This and the next chapter are some of my favorites. Thank you to Pinkpoodle8, RHatch89, TooSchweddy, Siren of the Dark Seas, and nick2951 for the reviews. I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 11

Since the conversation in the bathroom over a week ago, I haven't been sleeping very well. Every time I close my eyes, I see empty graves and the letter "A," and they haunt my dreams, too.

I still can't believe that after five long months of peace and quiet, someone's taken the "A" game over again. And it's even scarier to think that the person who is sending these texts is most likely the same person who dug up Alison's grave.

I've tried over the past few days to push it all out of my mind. Unless my mother is "A," my family is completely uninvolved this time. The last thing I want to do is get on any new tormentor's radar.

When I jolt awake at two thirty in the morning, I assume it's because of the nightmare I was just having. But then I hear a creak, and I shoot upright in bed, pressing a hand to my chest. I can feel my heart beating hard.

I listen silently for a few moments, and when I don't see or hear anything else strange, I sigh in relief and lay back down, facing the wall. These stupid nightmares are really beginning to drive me crazy.

I stare at the wall that my bed is pushed against, trying to calm down. I'm just about to shut my eyes when a shadow passes across the empty wall. I roll onto my other side and push myself up onto my elbows, gasping.

Mona is kneeling beside the bed, inches away from me. I scream and fall right onto the floor. "Oh my god," I gasp, pulling myself back up. "What are you _doing_ here?" The only reasonable explanation occurs to me and I say loudly, "Were you – were you _released?_ Right now?"

She puts her finger to her lips and hisses, "Be quiet! I snuck out."

"What?" I switch on the lamp on the table and sit down on the edge of the bed. "What do you mean you snuck out? How do you sneak out of a mental institution?"

"I'll explain later," Mona says, pulling a set of car keys out of her pocket. "Come on."

"What? Where?" I ask, but scramble out of bed anyway and pull a sweatshirt on over my pajamas. "And how do you have a car?"

She tosses me the keys. "Yeah, no, these are to your car."

"Huh?" I glance over at my desk, where my key ring sits, undisturbed. I have never been more confused in my life, which is really saying something. I start for the door, then stop and turn back to the window instead. I push it open and hoist myself out, groping in the dark for the nearest tree branch. Mona switches off the light and follows.

We climb into my car and I pull slowly out of the driveway, keeping one eye on my parents' bedroom window for any signs of movement. It's not until I pull up to the stop sign at the corner of our block and finally feel comfortable enough to turn on the headlights that I realize something. "Do you mind telling me where we're going?"  
My sister smiles a little. "Turn left here. We're going to Mayflower Hill."

"What, the apartment complex?" I ask in confusion, driving past Main Street. "Why?"  
"I'll explain everything when we get there."

I sigh. "I still don't understand how you managed to get out of Radley without anyone noticing."

She leans back against the seat and rolls her eyes. "You ask a lot of questions."

I turn right at the sign that indicates Mayflower Hill. "And you don't answer many."

The building is large and a little shabby looking. I've passed this place a few times but have never given it much thought, because, with all of the other, nicer apartment complexes in town, no one lives here if they can help it. The parking lot is dimly lit and mostly empty. I pull into the first available space and shudder a little. "This is creepy," I say as we climb out of the car. I check to make sure it's locked three times. "You'd better have a good explanation."

"I do," Mona says in the flat tone of voice that I recognize well. My stomach begins to churn and I try not to throw up as we enter the building and walk casually past a security guard, who clearly couldn't care less, on the way to the elevator. I'm beginning to realize what must be going on here.

The second floor of this place is just as dark and barren as the first. I follow my sister down the hall to a door marked "Apartment A". The irony is not lost on me, and I'm more sure now than ever that this is "A" related business. But why do I need to be here? And what, exactly, is behind this door?

Mona pulls another key out of her pocket and unlocks the door. It is only then that I take notice of exactly what she's wearing: A black hoodie and black pants.

My mind flashes back to the night of the masquerade, and I push past her into the room. As soon as I enter, my vision goes a little narrow.

I never got to see her old "A" lair in the Lost Woods Resort, but I certainly tried to imagine what it could have looked like. This is worse.

All four walls are covered with photographs, of Alison, Spencer, Aria, Hanna, Emily, and pretty much everyone who has ever spoken to any of them. Pictures of the girls standing over the open grave. Dozens of newspaper clippings of any article ever written about Alison's disappearance and death. I catch sight of a picture of the four girls in the bathroom…talking to me.

I cringe and look away. A wooden dollhouse stands on a table in the corner. There are five dolls inside, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who they're supposed to resemble. Aside from a gross-looking sofa that probably came with this place, the only other furniture in the room is a huge desk completely covered with computer monitors and other equipment, and a chair in front of it. A small closet door is open on one side of the room, revealing a neat row of black hoodies, and several other doors, closed, take up the opposing wall.

The claustrophobic feel of the room, along with my general fear, makes me so dizzy that I have to lean against the doorframe. Mona takes this opportunity to shove me further into the apartment, then steps inside and shuts the door.

I stare around, bewildered. It takes me a few tries before I can get words out. "This…this is the 'A' lair."

My older sister smirks at me through the mirror on the wall. She adjusts her ponytail and says, "Wow, Viola. Good observation."

I'm too shocked to be angry. I sit down hard on the dusty sofa and keep my eyes focused firmly on the carpet. "I don't get it," I mumble, trying to get my questions organized. "I saw you in Radley _two days ago,_ and you could barely focus your eyes. Was that all some kind of act?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," she says, grabbing two mugs from the desk and walking over to a coffee maker beside the sofa that I hadn't noticed before. "Coffee?"

I raise an eyebrow, growing fed up with this. "Uh, no. I don't want coffee. I want you to tell me what the hell is going on."

Something shifts in Mona's expression. I can see a little of the tough exterior begin to fade. She brings her mug over and stands in front of me. "I've been sneaking in and out of Radley for months. With this." She pulls a black backpack out from under the desk and unzips it, holding out a white nurse's uniform. A Radley Sanitarium ID card is clipped to the front, with the name "Ali Dee."

I roll my eyes at the name choice. "And how did you get that, exactly? Last I checked, they don't hand disguises out to patients."

She shoots me a look that reminds me of the days when she was simply a Pretty Major Bitch. It seems like forever ago. "The game ended that night at Lookout Point, for a while. But someone came to visit me in Radley. They told me that they could sneak me in and out…if I'd let them play the game with me. It was great, at first. But then things changed. They took over."

"Who is it?" I ask, looking around and suddenly feeling like we're being watched. "Who took over?"

Mona sets the coffee down and sits down next to me. Her emotionless expression changes briefly to one of fear. "I know you've been talking to those girls again," she says.

I'm aware of the change in subject but don't press it. "Only once. They told me about Emily being drugged the night of the grave-digging. I assume you know all about that?"

She doesn't answer, taking another sip of coffee. I wait for a good few moments and finally blurt out in frustration, "If you're not going to answer any of my questions, why did you bring me here in the first place?"

"She wants you to join the team."

Nothing about that sentence makes sense. "What? Who is 'she,' and what team are you talking about?"

"Viola." Mona turns to look at me, with such intensity that my nerves spike even higher. "I'm not the only person involved in this any more."

I still would like to know who this new teammate is, but I ask the more pressing question instead. "So this isn't your game anymore? Someone else is in charge?"

My sister nods. "I only do what she tells me to. It's hard to stay in control when you're locked in a padded room."

I gaze around the space, feeling a little less claustrophobic. "Okay…so you're still 'A.' Fine. I should have known. But what do I have to do with this?"

"She thinks that you'll be a good asset to the team. It'll be easy for you to get in and out of Radley. And she knows how smart you are," Mona says, her voice low.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the little twinge of flattery that I feel. Who cares if some unnamed psychopath thinks I'm smart? But it sneaks in anyway. "If I join the team," I say, slowly, "you'll have to tell me who this person is."

"She goes by Red Coat. That's all you need to know," she tells me, and I know that that's all I'm going to get out of her on that subject.

For a moment, my curiosity almost takes over. But I pinch myself on the arm and snap back to reality quickly. "Wait, what am I even talking about? No. I don't want any part of this, and you shouldn't, either. Why do you possibly think that I want to join your insane little game?"

Mona smiles in a way that gives me a chill. She walks over to the desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out a manila envelope. "Because of this." She slides a photograph out of it and holds it up.

I can feel my stomach sink. The picture is a little blurry and narrow, looking like it was taken from the other side of a mostly-closed door.

But it's not blurry enough to hide the identities of the two people. The man's hand is on the girl's shoulder, in the process of pulling down the strap of her blue tank top. Their mouths are pressed together, but the girl's eyes are wide open.

It's me and Ian. The night of the party.

The night that I've tried so hard to forget.

There's proof.

...

 **Please let me know what you think, as always! Next chapter, Viola must make a final decision concerning her fate with the "A" team.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, it's time for Viola to make her decision. I got some interesting reviews to the last chapter, so I figured I'd take the time to respond now:**

 **RHatch89 - Well, you'll find out in this chapter - don't want to give anything away, although most of you probably know what's going to happen. Just remember that nothing in this story is permanent...especially in regards to "A" team status.**

 **nick2951 - She's one of my favorites, too! And her motive behind the blackmail is going to become a little more clear in this chapter. Don't worry - I'm not one to make any character purely "evil"...there's always a reason behind everything.**

 **TooSchweddy - Thanks for the review! I wonder if Viola feels the same way...**

Chapter 12

"No," I whisper, even though I'm not conscious of saying the word. I imagine leaping up, snatching the picture, and ripping it into a thousand pieces, but by the time my body catches up to my brain, Mona has slipped the photo back into the envelope, stuck it back in the drawer, and locked it firmly with a click.

"No," I say again, jumping up. "You can't show anyone that. You can't." Tears blur behind my eyes. I can't believe that my own sister would blackmail me like this. I pause and try again, my voice coming out shaky and small. "Why would you do this to me?"

Mona's triumphant smirk fades a little. She looks almost uncomfortable. "This isn't my decision," she insists. "I told you months ago, I never wanted you to get involved in this. But I'm not in charge anymore."

I am still furious, don't get me wrong, but the desperation in her voice softens my anger a little. "Prove it," I say, just to be sure, wiping my eyes. "Prove to me that 'Red Coat' is actually a real person and not one of your many different personalities."

She sighs and rolls her eyes, but walks over to the far wall, almost completely covered by various pictures, and examines it. Finally, she pulls a photo down and hands it to me. "This is the only one."

I hold it up to my face and squint. It's dark, clearly taken at night, but I can make out a female figure. Her face is completely covered by shadow, but I see the bright red coat, with the hood up around long, blond hair that may or may not be a wig.

I stare at the picture until my sister rips it back out of my hands and pins it back on the wall with an irritated mutter of, "I shouldn't have shown you that. She doesn't trust you yet."

I sit back down on the old sofa and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples to try and relieve a pounding headache. "So this Red Coat person has stolen the 'A' game from you and you're working off of her orders. And if I don't join and play the game with you, everyone in town is going to find out that I was…assaulted by Ian Thomas?" As soon as the words exit my mouth, I feel bile rise in my throat and choke it back down.

In response, Mona roots around in the backpack again, this time pulling out a black hoodie identical to the one that she's wearing. She holds it out to me.

I stare at it, barely breathing. For months, the stupid "A" game has been the bane of my existence. I thought it was finally over, that I didn't have to worry anymore. Do I really want to be a part of the same insane game that, just a few days ago, I was afraid of becoming a victim of?

The logical part of my mind tells me to tell her exactly where she can put that stupid hoodie, to get in my car and drive straight to the police station and tell them that the game has started again, family relations be damned.

But I can't get that picture out of my head. Despite the blurriness, it shows my face, clear as day. It doesn't matter to me that Ian's dead. No one can know about what happened that night. Not until I can leave Rosewood for good and never have to worry about seeing anyone in this gossipy town again.

And it looks like there's only one way to make that happen.

My hand shaking, I reach out and take the hoodie from my sister's hand. Not completely sold on this at all, I pull it on and walk over to the mirror on the wall. Slowly, I reach up and tug the hood up over my head.

My hair is back in a ponytail, so it is completely hidden by the hood. I barely recognize myself. My face is pale and my eyes are red-rimmed. I feel like a completely different person.

So I'm on the A-team. I'm still not entirely sure what this means. Sending texts signed by "A"? Sneaking around outside people's houses and taking incriminating photos?

I won't be hitting anyone with cars or faking deaths, that's for sure. Red Coat can do whatever she wants to me, but I'm not going to physically hurt anyone.

I take a deep breath and stare at my reflection, trying to convince myself that I'm not doing anything wrong. No one is going to get hurt. When I was innocent and knew nothing about "A" or the incident at the grave, I didn't have any control over what "A" was doing. But if I'm part of the team, maybe I can at least make sure that no one else ends up in a hole in the ground.

I feel my anxiety slowly begin to subside. Mona walks up behind me, evaluating my reflection. "You're making the right choice, Viola," she says quietly, putting her hand on my shoulder. I flinch. "Welcome to the team."

…

I'm walking up the front steps to Radley's main entrance a few days later, my eyes on my phone, when I nearly ram straight into someone.

I stumble back and nearly fall right down the concrete steps, but a hand shoots out and grabs me by the arm, pulling me back up. I raise my eyes and see Lucas Gottesman in front of me, the heavy door to Radley just slamming shut behind him.

"Hey," I say to be friendly, even though we don't really know each other and he looks like I just caught him doing something horrible.

"Viola," he greets under his breath, ducking his head and trying to scoot around me.

There is something suspicious about this, I decide, and now I'm the one to grab his arm. "Lucas. What's going on? Are you okay?"

He stops, a few steps below me, and shoves his hands into his pockets a little too casually. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

I hesitate, stepping down so I'm on the same level as him. "It's just that…I heard about the fire you started. In an empty classroom yesterday. I just thought…"

"Well, you thought wrong. It was just a misunderstanding," he mumbles. "I have to go."

Before a few days ago, I would have rolled my eyes at his weird attitude and let him go. But I'm on the "A" team now. And I don't know very much about what that entails, but I do know that I can't just go around letting people with potential information slip by me. The days of being in the dark are over.

"Wait," I call, and rush down the stairs after him. I reach him just before the gate. "Who were you visiting?"  
Lucas turns back to me, looking suddenly angry. "Why do you need to know, Viola?"

His defensiveness pretty much proves it. I raise my eyebrows and say, "You were visiting Mona. Why?"

He glances back at the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out how to get away. "You don't know that," he says, but the uncomfortable look on his face confirms it.

"I'm not stupid," I snap, immediately surprised at myself. Geez. I've been "A" for, like, two minutes, and I've already turned into more of a bitch than I usually am. "I didn't know you and my sister were such good pals. What's going on, Lucas?"  
He looks for a second like he's going to run, but finally sighs and gives up. "Fine. I just needed to…make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That Mona is really as crazy as everyone seems to think," he bursts out. He grabs my arm and pulls me away from a security guard roaming nearby. "Listen. I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I have a feeling she's faking the whole 'mental' thing."

I can feel my stomach clench. "What?" I ask, hoping that he attributes the inevitable paleness of my face to disbelief that he could possibly think such a crazy thing. "Why – why do you say that?"

His expression hardens. "What sounds better to you, a mental hospital or prison?"

I shake my head, wondering how much he knows. "So you think…you think that Mona is still 'A'?"

I can't tell from his face whether he is surprised or not at the mention of "A." My mind flashes back to the night of the masquerade, when Aria, Hanna, and Emily seemed convinced that Lucas was working with "A."

"I think she's more involved than anyone else seems to think," he says to answer my question. "You need to be careful."

"I am being careful," I say with a sigh, and decide to just throw caution to the wind. "But you do, too. I know that you were working with Mona last year."

I am hoping that I'm wrong – does everyone in this town have to be involved in this mess, somehow? But he doesn't even try to deny it. "I was helping Mona," he repeats quietly, looking around as if expecting her to suddenly appear. "Only for a little while."

"Why would you do that?" I ask, even though I am also doing that, right now. But it's one thing to help your sister. It's entirely another to help a girl you supposedly hate.

"I can't tell you that," he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably.

I go silent as another security guard passes us, then say, "Lucas. You have to tell me. Mona's my sister and I love her, but trust me, I know what she's capable of. She even sent me an 'A' message, once, to keep me quiet."

His eyes go a little wide at this. "Fine, but you can't tell a soul. I'm serious. If anyone else finds out…" He trails off, then starts over. "She blackmailed me into helping her. She threatened to tell the school that I was selling test answers."

That strikes a chord with me, a memory coming back. "Wait a minute. _You_ were the one giving out those answer keys?" I burst into laughter before I can stop myself. "That explains how my best friend mysteriously started getting A's on chemistry tests."

"Macy Littleton?" Lucas asks immediately, without smiling. "Yeah, her and a bunch of other kids. I couldn't risk getting caught, so I helped her deliver some messages, just for a few weeks before she was caught."

I slowly begin to put the pieces together. "So you were going to see Mona to make sure that she's too crazy to sell you out?"

He takes a few steps away, in the direction of the parking lot. I can sense that his trust in me only goes so far. "You better not tell anyone," he says, his voice low and almost a little hostile. "If you go in there and tell your sister what we – "

"I won't," I insist, which is the truth, "A" team or not. "I swear. Thanks for telling me all that." I force a smile and say, hoping my voice doesn't give away that I'm lying, "It's just hard, you know? Finding out that your own sister did such horrible things to people."

"I get it," Lucas replies, nodding, and turns to walk away. He pauses just as I'm starting back up the stairs. "But you should know," he calls, and I turn back around, "I don't think this is over."

I watch him walk away, a feeling of foreboding growing in my stomach. I have so many more questions…just how involved was he? Does he know more about what happened to Alison than he's letting on?

Was all that he told me a ruse, and he's still on the team?

Does he know who Red Coat is?

My mind spins with questions and worry as I climb the steps back up to Radley. It makes me nervous, someone else knowing so much about "A." Mona never told me that she was working with someone all that time. So can I trust that there isn't anyone else working with us now?

I pause, just beginning to open the door when my phone chimes. I pull it out of my pocket and feel my heart skip at the message on the screen.

 _He knows too much. Make sure he doesn't find out more. -A_

 _..._

 **Thanks for reading! Drop me a review to let me know what you think. I start back to school tomorrow, but I still hope to get a chapter up every other day or so. Next up, Viola carries out her first "A" plan. What do you guys think she'll end up doing?**


	13. Chapter 13

**Oh, Lucas can run, but he can't hide. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I'm so grateful for all of the awesome support I'm getting from you guys! Now it's time for Viola to carry out her first "A" mission...hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 13

I glance at the text from "A" one more time, the bright screen contrasted against the dark sky. So much for a formal introduction onto the team. Apparently Red Coat isn't the type of person for small talk.

I'm both a little surprised to get my first official orders from "A" so soon, and also surprised that I haven't gotten any before this. As soon as I read the message, I experienced the same feeling of dread that I did the night that I got my first and only other message from the same pseudo name. But this time it's not a threat. This time I'm playing for the other side.

I turn the car lights off and get out, shutting the door quietly behind me. I've parked a little ways down the street, thinking that's the sort of thing "A" would do. "A" doesn't get caught, and right now I _am_ "A," so I have to make sure that I don't get caught, either.

I pull the black hood over my head and walk casually up the street, checking the house number on the school directory that I've pulled up on my phone. I shove my free hand in the pocket of the hoodie, wrapping it around the full can of spray paint.

I was expecting Red Coat, or Mona even, to give me a more detailed explanation of just what, exactly, I am supposed to do. But after getting the vague "A" message telling me to shut Lucas up, I bailed on Radley and drove straight home. I haven't heard anything since then, and I since I don't have my own key to the lair, I couldn't go there to check for any information.

So I guess this must be my formal introduction to the team…pull off my first "A" stunt. I'm sure Red Coat is somewhere watching, but as I squint up and down the dark street, I don't see any flashes of red.

I reach the Gottesman house and walk slowly around the perimeter, eyeing the windows. No lights are on, probably because it's nearly one in the morning, but I can just barely make out a few Star Wars stickers pasted on one of the upstairs windows, and I decide that unless Lucas has a younger, nerdier brother that I never knew about, it's a safe bet that it's his room.

Fortunately, Lucas' bedroom was not hard to find, and the window is open. Unfortunately, there is not a tree placed conveniently outside of it, as there is by my room, so sneaking in will be a problem. There is, however, a garden trellis secured to the wall. I grab onto it, shaking it hard with both hands. It doesn't budge.

Thankful for this good luck, I take a breath and hoist myself up, gripping the bars of the trellis until my knuckles turn white. I'm not too scared until I climb a good few feet off of the ground, when it becomes apparent that if I fall, I could have a worse problem than just waking someone up.

My foot slips on a leaf and I stifle a scream, holding on tight as my weight bends the wooden bars of the trellis slightly toward me. I hold my breath and readjust my grip until I feel secure again.

I pull myself up another few feet until I'm just under Lucas' bedroom window. Using the knowledge I have gained from years of gymnastics to balance myself, I hold tight to the trellis with one hand and reach to push the open window up further. Then I grab the window ledge with both hands and pull myself up and in, my arms shaking from both fear and aching muscles.

I tumble headfirst into the dark room and thankfully land on soft carpet. I hold my breath for a moment, tugging my fallen hood back up. I sit on the floor for a few moments, catching my breath and letting my eyes adjust. The only movement in the room is the breathing of the lump asleep in the bed.

My heart is pounding hard and fast in my chest. I pull the can of spray paint out of my pocket – thank god it didn't fall out when I was climbing – and shake it. Then I rise to my feet and begin to inspect the room.

The majority of wall space is cluttered with posters of superheroes and old, framed comic books, along with shelves filled with boxed action figures and stuffed animal versions of Star Wars characters and superheroes. God. You can tell Lucas is a little nerdy just by looking at him, but I clearly underestimated.

I roll my eyes at the décor and mange to locate the only wall space not taken up by posters or shelves. Holding my breath, I hold the spray paint up to the wall and write, in bright red.

 _Keep your mouth closed and your eyes off of Radley. No one likes a tattletale. –A_

I have never written in spray paint before, and the words are shaky at best. The can hisses as the paint shoots out, and the smell is beginning to make my eyes water. I'm just finishing, making the "A" big and bold, when I hear a rustle. I stick the cap on the paint and whirl around. Lucas is beginning to stir.

I can't get caught, not on my first "A" mission. My sister would kill me, if whoever Red Coat is couldn't get to me first. I stick the can back in my pocket and practically hurl myself out of the window, remembering at the last second to grab onto the trellis before I fall ten feet.

Climbing down is much easier than climbing up, even at twice the speed. I scamper halfway down and then jump, landing on my feet so hard that my teeth rattle. Grimacing, I pause to catch my breath before taking off back down the street, flinging open the door to my car and speeding off.

My heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest. I can't believe I just did that. I actually broke into someone's house and vandalized their bedroom. I should feel horrible and guilty, and I do, to the point that at one point, I even have to pull over and throw up in the grass.

But despite all of that, I can't help but enjoy the slight feeling of adrenaline still coursing through me. I've never done anything that bad in my life.

I've never done anything that _exciting_ in my life. And it feels sort of good.

A block away from my house, I impulsively make a left instead of a right and find myself pulling into the Mayflower Hill parking lot instead. I push down the hood and practically skip through the lobby and up to the second floor. I stop in front of apartment "A" and knock.

Mona told me the last time I visited her that it's easiest to sneak out of Radley at night, when the nurses' shifts change, and sneak back in the morning. I'm sure she'll be here, especially if she knows what I did tonight. And in some twisted way, I can't wait to tell my older sister that I successfully carried out my first order from "A." I feel a strange, demented sort of pride that I know I really shouldn't be feeling.

I knock once more and the door finally swings open to reveal someone in a black hoodie, but it's not my sister.

It's Toby Cavanaugh.

...

 **It was only a matter of time before Viola met the third member of the team, right? Next up, Viola tries to get answers out of her new teammate, and the "A" shenanigans continue. Let me know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey again, everyone. Thanks to nick2951, RHatch89, and TooSchweddy for reviewing. Your support, as always, is appreciated! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and let me know what you think.**

Chapter 14

I can't do anything but stare for a moment, my brain having trouble comprehending this. My eyes skim over the black hoodie, black jeans, and sneakers that Toby is wearing. There's only one possible explanation for this, but I somehow can't make the connection.

"Viola," he says quietly. "What are you doing here?" He leans out and looks down the hall, then pulls me into the apartment and shuts the door.

I stumble into the room and spin around, still staring. Toby has always scared me a little, even though he's been dating Spencer for at least a year. Just a few weeks before Alison went missing, an explosion went off in the Cavanaugh's garage, permanently blinding Toby's stepsister, Jenna. He took responsibility for causing the explosion and spent a year in juvie for it. He was also suspected in Ali's murder for a short time last year. Even though he was cleared of suspicion, he still has always made me a little nervous.

And I guess for good reason, considering he's on the "A" team. Apparently.

As soon as I am able to come to terms with this, I shake my head and say, "You – you're working with Mona, too?"  
Toby sits down in the chair in front of the computer monitors. On the biggest screen is an image advertising the upcoming Halloween train. "Just for a few weeks. She told me you joined the team."

"She didn't tell me that you did," I say in irritation. "Is there anyone else?"

He glances at me over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. "Aside from Red Coat?"

"I know about Red Coat," I say. "What I don't know is why you would join the team that's actively trying to set up your girlfriend for murder."

I can see his shoulders tense up. "I don't want to hurt Spencer," he mumbles, still staring straight at the computer. "I want to help her."

"Oh," I say, hoping that there aren't video cameras in here or anything. "So you're a double agent, then."

Apparently there aren't, because he doesn't lower his voice when he says, "What about you? I thought you were friends with those girls."

"I wouldn't exactly say 'friends,'" I say hesitantly, standing up from the sofa and walking slowly around the room, examining various photographs. "But the reason I'm doing this at all is because Mona has something on me. I don't need either her or Red Coat exposing my secret. And," I go on after a slight pause, feeling suddenly like I can trust this sullen boy, "what better way to make sure that 'A' doesn't hurt anyone else, than from the inside?"

Toby turns back to look at me, but doesn't seem surprised. "So you're a double agent too."

I put a finger to my lips. "Don't tell Mona. I think she still takes this pretty seriously."

He snorts and shakes his head, turning away. "What are you doing?" I ask, joining him at the desk and peering over his shoulder.

"Checking to see when tickets are available for the Halloween train," he explains, clicking to a new webpage.

"Wait," I say slowly, putting the pieces together. "Is 'A' going to do something that night?"

Toby clicks the X in the corner of the screen, and the computer goes dark. "I don't know much," he says. "Just that we all have to be there."

That would have been a nice thing to know, even though I don't completely believe him. I wonder if Red Coat wants me there at all. Somehow I feel like she doesn't trust me yet. "I got my first order from 'A' yesterday," I tell Toby, since my sister isn't here and I still feel like I need to tell someone. "I did it tonight."

Once again, he appears to already know what I'm talking about. "The Lucas thing?"

"Yeah," I say in surprise. "Do you get texts like that, too? From Red Coat?"

"Most of my orders come through Mona," Toby explains. "But Red Coat's definitely in charge."

I sit back down and lean forward, intrigued. "But you don't know who she is?"

"No one does," he replies, shaking his head and leaning back in the desk chair. "Except your sister."

We sit in silence for a minute as I process this. It seems like there's more to this team than just Red Coat and her minions. There appears to be a sort of "A" team hierarchy going on…and I'm pretty sure I'm at the very bottom of the totem pole.

The quiet settles into something awkward, and I check my phone for something to do. I'm shocked to find that it's after two in the morning. "Oh, god, I've gotta go," I yelp, jumping up. I grab the doorknob and pause, not sure how to say goodbye. I can't say that I'm really friends with Toby yet, but being teammates has to count for something. "So…I guess I'll see you on the Halloween train, then?"

He frowns at me, and I get the feeling that he knows a lot more than I do. "I think we'll be seeing each other before then," he says slowly.

I want to ask what he means, but he turns back to the computer, pushing his hood down, so I duck out and practically run all the way back to my car.

…

Being "A," I've realized over the past few weeks, is pretty easy, especially when the girls you're dealing with spend most of their time talking in public places and jumping to conclusions. They'll believe anyone is "A," and all it takes is just the tiniest piece of made-up evidence to prove it to them.

It's a little sad, really, how gullible these four girls are. I'd think they'd be a little smarter when it comes to suspecting their classmates of being part of the team, but I guess some people never learn.

Since I'm currently the only member of the "A" team who goes to Rosewood High School, most of my orders from my sister and Red Coat involve spying on conversations and reporting back.

"They think Paige is 'A,'" I say one afternoon, leaning back against the sofa and messing with two phones, one in each hand. One is my actual phone. The other is the burner phone that I was finally given a few days ago. It was on my pillow when I got home from school, with a note that read, _You know what this is for. –A_

I should have been scared that "A" was in my house – my _room_ – without me knowing, but I wasn't. I was actually excited by the possibility that I was starting to gain Red Coat's trust.

Mona ties back her hair and glances over at me. "You put the earring in her bag?"

I roll my eyes. "Um, yes. Hence why they think she's 'A.'" I remember something else and add, "They think she's the one who dug up the grave, and that she's the one working with you. They had an intervention with Emily yesterday morning, after they found the earring. I was listening outside. She's furious with all of them."

"Excellent." Mona smiles, and I feel a strange twinge of pride. She pulls out her own burner phone and presses a button, then pauses and nods at me, putting it away. "Why don't you send it?"

I know what she is talking about and grin. "Sure." I set my real phone down, careful to check and make sure which one I'm holding, and use the burner to type out a message to Paige's cell phone.

 _10 PM Saturday. Rosewood Cemetery. Or Emily gets hurt. –A_

I press send and immediately am hit with a wave of nausea, from both the thrill of sending my first "A" text and the guilt that comes along with it. The nagging feeling that I am a terrible person runs through my head, but I quickly push it out. I'm not actually going to hurt anyone, and I'm going to make sure that no one else does, either.

A few texts never hurt anyone. And as long as Paige follows our orders, nothing is going to happen to her.

"Done," I say, dropping the burner back on the table and picking up my real phone. It suddenly goes off, singing out a ringtone, and I check the screen.

Justin.

I cringe, glance at my sister, and press "Ignore," despite the guilt. For the first time in months, I cut gymnastics class last week. I wasn't doing anything "A" related at the time…I just couldn't face him after everything. I promised him that I wouldn't lie anymore, that we could build our relationship back up.

But now everything's different. The last thing I want is Justin getting involved in the "A" drama. And if he found out that I'm possibly just as crazy as my sister, he won't want anything to do with me. Not that I'd blame him.

I set my phone on the table, screen down, and sigh. Mona looks up from her own phone and says, "I sent them the picture."

"What picture?" I ask, and she holds her phone out to show me.

It's a picture of Spencer, Aria, and Hanna, the night of the grave digging, holding a shovel. Even to me, they look guilty, and I know that they had nothing to do with the incident. I avert my eyes, frowning.

But I shouldn't feel bad. The plan isn't to frame them for digging up the grave, right now at least. All we have to do is get them to believe that Paige is the one behind all of this, that she's the one trying to set them up for grave digging while keeping Emily, her girlfriend, completely in the clear.

"You know that they still think you're involved, right?" I say, remembering another conversation I overheard while holding my breath in a bathroom stall. "They just think Paige is helping you."

"That doesn't matter," Mona snaps, just as her phone rings. "I'm here," she says into the phone after a moment. "I understand."

"What?" I demand once she snaps the phone closed. "What do you understand? Was that Red Coat?"

"Change of plans," she says, ignoring my questions. "Emily's going with Nate to the Lighthouse Inn tonight. We're not going to the grave." She picks the phone back up, presses a few buttons, and holds it up to her ear.

"Who are you calling?" I ask, completely bewildered.

"Toby."

...

 **Next up, Viola's conflicting feelings about the "A" team climb even higher as the events of the Halloween train unfold.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Well, only two reviews on the last chapter...but both good ones! So I figured I'd go ahead and update. I would like to get a little more feedback, though, so I probably won't be updating again either for a few days longer than usual, or until I get five reviews, whichever happens first. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 15

I hear sirens blare in the distance as I walk toward Radley's main gate alongside my fellow teammates. This is the first time – in my experience, at least – that an "A" scheme has not gone according to plan, and everyone's spirits are a little low.

But it's not all bad, I guess. By revealing himself as not Maya's sweet, simple cousin Nate, but her old stalker, Lyndon James managed to both admit his guilt in Maya's murder and get himself killed. By _Emily_ of all people.

I shake my head as we walk, trying not to smile. I would have never thought that she had it in her, the ability to stab someone right in the stomach. Mona always calls her the weakest link, but I'm not so sure, after tonight. I think Emily has more guts than everyone gives her credit for.

And since Lyndon confessed to Emily that he was responsible for Maya's body ending up in the St. Germain's backyard, Garrett Reynolds is a free man.

But we never got Maya's bag back. And now Paige is in possession of Maya's cell phone, though I'm betting that she doesn't even know she has it.

I'm not aware that my steps have slowed until the others are a good few yards ahead of me. I hurry to catch up. Mona pulls out a compact mirror and lipstick. She's back in the nurse's uniform, getting ready to sneak back into Radley. "If I knew Nate was gonna get Garrett out, I would've stayed in tonight. You have to get Maya's cell phone back. Paige doesn't even know she has it. It sucks we didn't get to make that phone call."

She slaps the compact closed and tosses both items into her bag. She hands it to me and I sling it over my shoulder. Then she keeps talking, her voice taking on a mocking tone. "Ring, ring? 'What's Paige doing with Maya's cell phone? OMG, she must be the killer.' Oh, well. Even the best laid plans go awry."

I roll my eyes at the melodrama going on here. This whole Paige setup seems to have already been in the making at the time that I joined the team, so I'm not sure why it was necessary in the first place. Anything to freak people out and get the focus off of the real team members, I guess.

"I'll see you soon," Mona says to Toby, then looks at me. "Did you get what I asked you to?"

My heart skips a little; I had hoped that she would forget about this. I probably should have known better. I wince and unzip the little pocket of my bag, pulling out three small, silver bullets. She holds out her hand but I hesitate. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea. What are these for, anyway?"  
"Nothing that you need to worry about. I'll make sure you get three back after the train."

I hand them over and scowl, crossing my arms. "You better. If Dad realizes I cracked the code on his safe, he'll be using those bullets on _me._ "

Mona smiles, dropping the bullets into her little change purse and snapping it closed with a click. "He won't." She turns and walks up the steps to the doors to Radley, using her fake ID card to enter.

I turn and rush to catch up with Toby, fairly certain that someone is going to be murdered on that train. I want to punch myself. Aside from the fear of my secret getting out, the whole point of me joining the "A" team was to make sure no one else got hurt. But judging by what has already happened and what seems to be in the works, that's not going so well.

I think of my father, away on another two month long business trip, oblivious while his sixteen year old daughter managed to break into his gun safe ("I don't like to think of you all here unprotected while I'm away," he always says) and steal bullets to hand over to his seventeen year old daughter. My stomach clenches.

"Did you get the tickets?" I ask Toby, hurrying along to match his long stride. The hood of his black sweatshirt is pulled up around his face, just like mine.

"Yes," he replies flatly, glancing over at me. "But you'll have to buy your own. If I got more than two Spencer would've suspected something."

I smirk, reaching into my bag and pulling out my own ticket, folded in half. "Already done. I'll see you on the train."

…

The problem, it becomes apparent, is Garrett. He knows a little too much about the night Alison was killed, and if I know one thing, it's that "A" doesn't like it when people know too much.

The ghost train is the biggest Halloween event in Rosewood this year. Apparently it is in other towns, too, because just two days ago Justin asked me to go with him. He bought tickets and everything. How could I say no?

I hold tight to his hand as we walk onto the train. Of course we had to make sure that our costumes match, so we decided to go with something not too complicated. He's Gomez Addams, because his hair is already black and he has a pinstripe suit, and I'm Morticia because my hair is long enough, even though it's not quite black, and it was easy to find a long, tight black dress.

"What?" he asks, noticing my worried expression. "You're not… _scared,_ are you?"

I scoff, trying to snap out of it. "Of course not. You know me. I'm not scared of anything." _Except for a possible murder via gunshot wounds,_ I add in my head.

"Not many people from Brookhaven are here," Justin says, craning his neck and looking around. "But I should have guessed. Not many people want to be in Rosewood right now, especially on Halloween."

"I don't blame them," I agree, shuddering. The news of Lyndon's death and Garrett's release from jail have been all over the news lately. Thankfully Emily's part in everything is not known, but I'm sure that won't last long, especially with "A" around.

"Hey, here we go," Justin cheers as we walk into another train car. "Food. Want me to get you something?"

The music is starting now, loud and pumping, so I have to raise my voice to be heard. "Maybe just some punch?"

As soon as he's out of eyeshot, the smile slips off of my face. I gaze around nervously, spotting Toby and Spencer, dressed as gangsters. Toby catches my eye briefly and turns away. I do as well, scanning the train car. Mona is here somewhere, most definitely wearing a mask or five because of course she snuck out of Radley again to get here. And I would bet money that Red Coat is lurking around somewhere, too.

But there are others as well. All I know is that two people are skulking around in Queen of Hearts costumes, their faces concealed behind masks and their figures hidden by bulky outfits. One has a gun, loaded with the stolen bullets, and the other has pills crushed into powder. Mona wouldn't tell me who they are, just that they're being blackmailed into doing our dirty work for us. I didn't ask. I don't really think I want to know.

But that doesn't make me any less afraid. I catch a glimpse of one of the costumes through one of the train windows and whirl around, nearly slamming into Justin as he approaches with two cups of punch. "Wow, I went to get you a drink and you're still here when I came back," he jokes.

I take one from him and smack him on the arm. "New rule. No talking about the past. Come on, let's try and get close to the stage before the crowd begins to swarm."

Somehow whoever is in charge of this ghost train managed to get Adam Lambert to perform. But that's Rosewood for you – we always have to be the best.

But I can't really muster up my usual amount of bitterness about this. I mean, who cares what the reason behind it is? We get to see _Adam Lambert_ perform.

We shove our way through the crowded train cars, finally getting to the little stage just as the first song begins, the train lurching along down the tracks. For the next hour, I finally get to put aside my "A" worries and dance along to the music with Justin. I try my best to forget about the gun and the possible murder. Neither Mona nor Red Coat gave me any orders for tonight. I have nothing to worry about.

After the first set, I walk with Justin back to the other end of the train for another round of punch. Just as I'm taking my first sip, a hand grabs my arm. I whirl around, fully expecting someone in a Queen of Hearts costume, and am relieved when it's only Emily standing behind me, dressed as something that goes way beyond the limits of my imagination.

"Have you seen Aria?" she asks worriedly.

I raise my eyebrows, glancing over at Justin, and shrug. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"No one knows where she is. Spencer and Hanna found her purse." Emily peers over my shoulder at Justin and tugs on my arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"

The last thing I want is to ditch him – _again –_ but I get the feeling that something major is going on. My stomach flips over. I wish that I at least could know what "A" has planned for tonight. "Sure," I mumble, and tap my date on the shoulder. "Hey. I'll be right back, okay?"

He nods, giving me a thumbs up over the music, which has just resumed, so I walk a few paces away with Emily. "What's going on?" I ask, trying to arrange my face into an innocent expression.

"Spencer just talked to Garrett," she says in a hushed tone. "He didn't kill Alison that night, but Jenna thinks he did."

"Jenna thinks Garrett killed Ali?" I repeat in a daze, trying to grind this into my memory. I don't know what my teammates know – probably much more than me – but I can't let this go. "That's crazy."

"That's not all," Emily whispers, leaning closer. "Garrett saw Ali talking to Mr. Montgomery that night."

"Aria's dad?" I gasp, my eyebrows shooting up. "What were they saying?"  
"He didn't hear," she says. "But apparently it didn't sound good."

I shake my head. "Oh, wow. Yeah, that's probably something that Aria should know."

"Can you help us look for her?" Emily pleads, her eyes darting around in concern. "We need to look all over the train."

"Of course," I say earnestly, and when she rushes off, I sigh and head back to Justin. I know two things about what is going on: Obviously this has something to do with an "A" plan that I don't know about, and obviously I shouldn't interfere. I grab his hand and say, "Come on. Let's get back to dancing."

…

Garrett is dead, and the only thing I can think is that I never heard a gunshot. His body was discovered by the other girls, in a box about to fall right out of the train, with Aria crammed in there with him. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it.

Everyone found out about the body when Spencer, Hanna, and Emily discovered it. I found out about five minutes before that, when someone dressed as the Phantom of the Opera brushed past me and slipped a scrap of paper into my hand.

 _Garrett's dead. Thanks for the bullets._ It wasn't signed, but when you've lived with someone your whole life it's pretty easy to recognize their handwriting (but it should be pointed out that I am obviously not an expert in that field).

The train screeched to a stop as soon as possible, and now the police are here, making sure the body is taken care of and investigating everyone. I stand amongst the jittery crowd with Justin, who looks like he just can't believe this town.

"I'm sorry," I say to him, slipping my arm through his.

He glances down at me, his face pale. "It's not your fault," he says quietly, and my heart sinks a little. Isn't it?

The police have moved out of our train car, and just as everyone is getting ready to disperse, a commotion occurs. I watch Noel Kahn shove Toby and wrap my arms around myself, closing my eyes. This isn't over yet, and I know what's going to happen. I'd tried all night to forget about it, actually. I swallow hard and try not to throw up.

Toby shoves Noel back, hard enough to knock him right into the ice chest in the center of the room. Noel slams into the cooler so hard that it breaks, just as planned, and out spills ice, drinks, and…a body bag.

Everyone gasps simultaneously, leaping back, so that's what I do as well. My eyes meet Toby's for a brief second, but I quickly look away and stare down at the black bag on the floor, soaking wet and, thankfully, zipped closed.

Shouts and exclamations of "Oh my god," and "Is that Alison?" fill the train car. I grab onto Justin's arm and pull. "Let's get out of here," I snap. The plan is over. There's no reason for us to stay and get even more freaked out.

"Whoa," he mutters, allowing me to pull him off of the train and to the nearest street. "What the hell just happened?"

"Weird," I agree, chilled to the bone despite the heavy dress. "I guess that explains what happened to Ali's body." I hope he attributes the shaking in my voice to me being just as shocked as he is.

"Who would do that, though?" he demands, following me in the direction of Rosewood. "What kind of sick person would steal a body and put it in an ice chest?"

I wince. Even though I am not, in fact, that person, I feel just as twisted. I've known about the body in the cooler for days now, plenty of time to tell the police. But I didn't.

The fear that I am turning into just as corrupt a person as my sister fills my head. Yet another innocent person has died, and maybe, if I hadn't gotten those bullets from my dad's safe, he wouldn't have.

Suddenly sick to my stomach, I bend over and throw up on the grass. Justin gapes, putting his hand on my back until I straighten up again, grimacing. "God, are you alright?"

I laugh weakly, pressing my lips together. "Yeah. I mean, no. Are you?"

In response, he pulls out his cell phone and turns it on. "I think I'll call a cab, have it pick us up and drive us back into town."

"Yeah," I say, gazing out in the direction of Rosewood. I can just barely make out Radley Sanitarium, right on the outskirts of town. I fight down the urge to throw up again. "Do that. Let's get out of here."

...

 **Thanks for reading, and remember to let me know what you think! In the next chapter, Viola battles with where her loyalties really lie when Mona returns to Rosewood High School.**


	16. Chapter 16

**THANK YOU for the five reviews so quickly! You guys are brilliant, and I wish I could have gotten this up yesterday like planned...unfortunately FanFiction's issues prevented that. Anyway, I think that's going to be my general plan for now. Five reviews and a quick update (quicker than this one, hopefully). So let me know what you think!**

Chapter 16

A week has passed since the Halloween train incident, and I am just beginning to get over it, which is not easy considering Garrett's face is all over the news. For a while, I seriously considered going to the police, giving up my part in this mess and confessing that the "A" game is still going on.

But my fear of that stupid picture getting out stopped me, once again. Because that wasn't an empty threat. There is no doubt in my mind that Mona would absolutely sell me out and find a way to put that picture in the newspaper if she felt I betrayed her.

And my fear of Red Coat goes even farther. I'm scared enough of my own sister, and she isn't even in charge of the game anymore. I don't even want to think about what Red Coat could do to me if I got on her bad side.

So I'm going to keep quiet. At least until I can figure out Red Coat's identity.

I hear mention of Garrett Reynolds and pick up the remote, flicking off the television in the kitchen. I fill a glass with water and sit back down at the table just as my phone chimes with a text from Justin: _Hey. Are you around?_

 _I'm free right now,_ I type back, smiling. _What do you have in mind?_

Finally, I have a free afternoon, with no tests to study for or "A" missions to worry about. Everything has been pretty quiet on that front since Garrett was murdered and Alison's body was discovered in the ice chest, actually. Part of me wants to believe that this is all that "A" wanted, and that this is all finally going to be over.

But I know better. Something big is going to happen soon. I can feel it.

I shake my head, pushing that thought out of my mind. I glance down at my outfit as I wait for Justin to reply. Lately, I've taken to wearing the brightest, flashiest, most colorful outfits I can, whenever I'm not in the black hoodie. It's almost like I'm trying to convince the world that I can't possibly be bad…because no one who's really bad wears bright colors. Recently, I almost feel like I have two different personalities living inside of me, and it's starting to scare me.

 _Dropping something off in Rosewood for my mom,_ Justin texts back, breaking me out of my thoughts. _Meet in half an hour on Main Street?_

I answer with an enthusiastic "yes" and send the message, just as the doorbell rings. I set my phone down, grab my glass of water, and go to answer it, confused. It's nearly four in the afternoon, not usually a time when salesmen come around.

I open the door cautiously, and the glass nearly falls out of my hand. "What – what are you doing here?"  
Mona smiles sweetly at me, turning around and waving at the white car parked outside of our house, marked with the words Radley Sanitarium. "My doctors released me," she says, picking up the duffel bag on the ground.

I can think of many reasons why that statement is alarming, but I am too stunned to do anything besides try and scrape my jaw off of the ground as my sister walks around me into the house.

"What do you mean," I finally ask, getting my bearings and shutting the front door behind me, "your doctors released you? No mental institution would release a minor patient without their parent being there."

She smirks at me, rolling her eyes. "Viola, I was sneaking in and out of that place for months. It really wasn't that difficult to convince them that I'm 'all better now.'"

I am suddenly very nervous. "So you're home now? For good?"

"Isn't it great?" She smiles widely, suddenly hugging me tightly. "It's like we can really be sisters again."

There is a note of fakeness in her tone that is not lost on me. Something is going on here. I know this, but I take a breath, cautiously raise my arms around her shoulders, and say, "Yeah. Great."

"I'm going to go unpack," Mona calls, already heading up the stairs.

I nod faintly, just as my phone chimes, once again from Justin. _Hey. I'm here. Where are you?_

I wince. I'd completely forgotten about our plans. I glance at the front door, tempted to run right out and possibly not even come back, but I shake my head, knowing how badly my mother would react if she found out that I ditched my sister to go hang out with some guy.

So, with much hesitation, I send a text back, making sure to keep it vague: _Something just came up. I can't meet today – I'm sorry! Talk to you later._

…

I am woken at midnight by my sister kneeling beside my bed. I jump a little, not just from surprise, but also from the immense amount of déjà vu that I am experiencing. But I am happy to say that she is at least wearing pajamas, not a black hoodie.

"What do you want?" I groan, not sitting up, because I have a Spanish test first period tomorrow and I was really counting on getting a good night of sleep.

Judging by her expression, Mona is either very nervous or very good at faking it. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

I sigh dramatically but flip over, pushing a few pillows off of the other side of the bed. "Sure. Fine." She gets in beside me, and I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. "What are you so worried about, anyway?"

There is a long pause before she says quietly, "I'm scared to go back to school tomorrow."

I'm not so sure that I believe this. "Oh, come on," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "You can break into people's houses, send threats by text, and _run someone over with a car_ without any problem, but you can't go back to school?"

"I don't want to go back," she insists, and I glance over. "Mom and Dad are forcing me. I wanted to go to a different school."

"What?" I whisper, shooting a look over my shoulder to make sure that the door is closed.

"Everyone knows what I did," Mona whispers, her voice shaking. "No one's going to be on my side. Even Hanna."

I close my eyes and take a breath, knowing that I am going to have to be supportive. "Um, hello? I will be. And most people don't even remember what happened." Lie. Everyone very much remembers how one of the most popular girls in school ended up being a crazy stalker.

And even worse, everyone very much remembers that I am her sister.

I still can't figure out if Mona is faking this whole scared to death act or not, but just in case, I reach over and grab her hand. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."

When I wake up two hours later, I am shivering. "Hey," I mutter, sitting up and pushing my hair out of my face. "Do you want me to turn up the – " I stop speaking abruptly when I turn to find the other side of the bed empty.

And I am freezing because the window is wide open.

I groan and fall back on the pillow, rubbing my eyes. I am so used to this that I am not surprised anymore, and to be honest, I don't even care.

…

It is not fine.

People start to stare pretty much the second we get out of the car. Whispers of "She shouldn't be here" and "What is she doing here?" follow us all the way to the bottom of the steps. I am actually feeling pretty empathetic toward my sister, to the point that I don't even want to bring up her whole disappearing act last night.

Mona looks over at me, her face reddening. I link my arm through hers just as I hear a friendly voice break through the murmurs. "Hey!"

I turn, smiling as Macy waves, walking toward me. Over the past few months, she has finally started coming around, even sleeping over at my house a few times. I think she's finally starting to move past the whole "my best friend's sister was institutionalized" thing.

That is, until she comes closer and spots Mona standing beside me. The smile slips off of her face and she goes pale. "Viola," she says quietly, grabbing my free arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um," I say, and turn back to my sister, pulling my arm out of hers. "I'll be right back. Wait here."

"Okay," she says quietly, clutching her books to her chest and staring down at the ground.

I can't help but feel bad as I follow Macy a few yards away, unable to stop myself from knocking my shoulder into a staring, gaping freshman boy, shoving him right against the wall.

"What's up?" I ask nervously, leaning against the bike rack. I shouldn't have asked. I know what this is about.

Macy glances behind us, then leans closer and says, "You didn't tell me she was coming back."

I roll my eyes at her theatrics. "I didn't know until yesterday," I explain, making sure to keep my voice down, because my sister isn't the only one people are looking at. "But come on, Mace. It's not a big deal."

Her mouth falls open. She chokes out a laugh, shaking her head at me. " _Not a big deal?_ Um, Viola, she hit someone with a car last year. She's been locked up in the loony bin for months! How can you say that this isn't a big deal?"

I open my mouth to speak, but she's still talking, almost rambling at this point. "I mean, crazy doesn't go away, right? You'd better be careful, Vi. Any one of us might get slammed down by a car next. Even you."

None of this is necessarily untrue, but I am suddenly very annoyed. "Mona would never hurt me." _Then she'd be down one team member,_ I add silently.

Macy looks incredulous. Her eyes grow wide. "She almost killed her own best friend. You shouldn't let your guard down."

I hesitate as I think about this, glancing over at the front steps. Mona is standing in the same spot, looking tiny among the sneering crowd. I frown, confused by my own empathy. Either my sister really does have multiple personalities, or she is excellent at faking at least one of them.

Either way, I turn back to my former best friend with a smile. "I know, Macy. I get it." I lean a little closer. "And you know what else I know? That you cheated your way through the second semester of chem last year."

She pulls away from me, her expression of worry switching to one of shock. "What?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "I know that you were buying test answers from Lucas," I tell her, my voice low.

Macy grabs my arm, shaking her head hard. "You can't tell anyone that, Viola. I'll get expelled."

I smile at her, a plan beginning to form. "I won't. I'd never do that you to. Unless, of course, you try and do anything to my sister. Family before friends, you know?"

The words come out with a little more venom than I intended, but Macy looks adequately freaked out. "I won't do anything," she insists. "I promise. Just…don't tell anyone about the test answers. _Anyone._ "

"I promise," I repeat back to her, smiling. The first bell rings, and she squeezes my arm, running off. I watch her for a moment, pressing my lips together carefully. I haven't gotten an assignment from "A" in a while. I wonder if team members are allowed to carry out their own plans.

Still thinking about this, I head back to the steps, almost bumping into Aria on my way. "Hey," I say cheerfully, but she doesn't even appear to have heard me.

"Hello, Aria," Mona says in response to Aria's panic-stricken expression.

When Aria does not respond, looking very much like a deer in headlights, I walk over and grab my sister's arm, tugging her toward the doors. "Come on," I say, shooting a nasty look at a group of whispering, pointing girls. "We're gonna be late."

...

 **Yikes. Looks like Viola's "A" side is really kicking in. And next up, Viola's dark side takes over when she carries out an "A" plan all of her own thinking.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A big thank you to nick2951, RHatch89, and TooSchweddy for your continued support, and to Fun With Typing for your first review! I always appreciate getting new feedback! And to answer your question, I do not have a beta reader - I write and edit everything myself. I** ** _do_** **have a (quite outdated) beta profile of my own, though, if anyone is curious to check it out.**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think! This is a big chapter in terms of Viola's character development.**

Chapter 17

I walk out of history a few minutes late, holding my latest essay in my hand and calling back, "Thanks, Mr. Senson!"

My history teacher smiles at me, moving to shut the door behind me. "No problem, Viola. Again, great job."

I smile down at the big, bold A plus on the paper as I head down the hallway. I've always been a good writer, but our last essay was about how Hitler managed to hold such intense control over the Nazis.

Considering what my life has become, it really wasn't that hard to fill six pages. But I'm pretty sure Hitler never wore a red trench coat.

I pause to shove the essay in my bag. If I hurry, I can still get to the cafeteria before the hot lunch line gets too long. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't hear the murmurs of the crowd that's gathered down the hall until I'm right in the middle of it.

I look up, confused, as every student around me fumbles through their bags and pockets for their phones. At first I figure a fight is about to go down. Every time anything even as simple as an argument breaks out, everyone's first reaction is to record, record, record.

I roll my eyes and shove my way through the crowd. I guess the hot lunch line won't be that long after all. But once I reach the peak of the action, I freeze.

Mona is walking slowly down the hallway, looking completely impassive, which is concerning because she is holding a knife. Attached to the knife is what appears to be a brain.

Actually, it's a cow brain. The same kind of thing that I nearly threw up over while dissecting in biology just a month ago.

I stare at her for a moment, having trouble comprehending this, then glance over at her locker, which is open. Hanna is standing in front of it, so I squeeze through the crowd toward her. "What the hell?" I ask, grabbing her arm.

Hanna shakes her head, looking completely disgruntled. "Someone stuck that in her locker," she explains, pointing at the inside of the locker door. A sign is taped to it, just above a large wet mark that I assume was left by the brain.

 _TAKES ONE MAD COW TO KNOW ANOTHER._

My mouth falls open at this, and the word "dammit" comes out pretty much without my knowledge. "I'm gonna go get a janitor," I snap, and rush off, not hanging around to see what happens next, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to stop it.

I head for the science wing, looking down hallways for a janitor's cart. I'm just a few yards away from the biology room when the door opens and my so-called best friend slips out.

I stop in my tracks, crossing my arms. "Macy."

She spins around, her face draining of color. "Oh. Hey, Vi."

I walk over slowly, glancing through the window into the dark, empty classroom. "What's up?"

"Uh, nothing," she says too quickly, but when I raise my eyebrows, she stammers for a moment and finally says, "I was just…I needed to talk to Ms. Rawlings. About our last test."

Our last test was over a week ago. But instead of straight up calling her out, I lean my shoulder against the wall and smile. "Hey, do you think she still has some of those cow brains left? The ones we dissected last month?"  
Macy's brow furrows. "Ew, I don't know. But those were, like, disgusting." She checks her watch and looks around…a little nervously, I think. "Oh my god, we are both totally late to lunch. Walk with me?"  
I avert my eyes from hers, looking down at the binder in my arms instead. I can identify a subject change when I hear one. "Uh, I actually have to stop at my locker. I'll meet you in the quad."

She waggles her fingers at me and heads off, and I watch her go, more sure now than ever that I have to do something.

Because it's like I told her. Family before friends.

…

Wearing the black hoodie feels a little weird when I'm not on official "A" team business. It almost feels wrong, in a way, like if Mona or Red Coat catches me, I'll be in big trouble. But aside from a few black dresses, I don't have much in the way of dark clothes.

Even so, I glance around nervously as I trek around to the back of the Littletons' house, careful not to step on any flowers despite the darkness. Something feels wrong about this, and it's not just that I'm about to commit vandalism on my own best friend. Macy hasn't been a good friend to me in months. It's not like she doesn't deserve a little revenge.

But there's a big difference between carrying out a plan that you've been ordered to, and carrying out one that's completely and totally your own idea. It was weird, walking into the lair and grabbing a hoodie without anyone else there. Even though I finally got my own key to the apartment a week ago, I still feel like I'm not completely part of the team yet.

Maybe this isn't allowed, me deciding to plan my own stunt without permission. Maybe I'll even get kicked off of the team for this. I'm alarmed to realize how much I don't want that to happen.

I shake my head, forcing myself to concentrate. I can't just stand around here forever, doubting myself. "A" has to move quickly.

Unlike at Lucas' house, I know exactly which window leads to Macy's. And, another plus, it's on the first floor…and it's wide open.

I roll my eyes, checking my watch. It's after midnight, but I should have known. Macy loves to sneak out of the house on Friday nights to go to whatever wild party is happening in town. Somehow she always manages to find out about them, even though she's never been as high on the popularity chain as she wants to be. I've gone to my fair share of parties with her, too, although the thought of having to climb a tree in the middle of the night to get back into my room usually deters me.

But tonight I'm thankful for Macy's carelessness. I climb through the open window with ease, as quietly as I can, just in case. I creep closer to the bed and find that, sure enough, it's empty. Smiling, I flick on my flashlight and shine it around her room.

For someone who is usually disorganized and scatter-brained, Macy has always kept her room neat and clean. Looking around, a new idea starts to form.

I pull the can of red spray paint out of my pocket and stare down at it. I had planned on doing the same sort of thing to Macy's room as I did to Lucas' about a month ago. Just writing something creepy and vaguely threatening on the wall and getting out.

But I hadn't expected her to be out. I walk over to the window and shine the flashlight down at the driveway. No cars. Her parents must be out, too.

This is almost perfect. Grinning, I flick on the overhead light and gaze around. I'm not so sure that I can just leave one little mark of vandalism now. After all, what Macy did to my sister was cruel and almost…dehumanizing. All I have to do is get her back in the same sort of way, and we'll be even.

There's a glass candle holder on top of her dresser. I reach out and knock it to the hardwood floor, jumping back and wincing as it shatters. Then I hurry over and open the door slowly, peering down the dark hallway. Just as I suspected, no lights come on and no footsteps come pounding up the stairs.

I really am alone.

I feel a sudden surge of adrenaline, and for the next ten minutes, I let myself go crazy. I throw every pillow on the bed to the floor, even ripping a few in the process. I knock every poster and frame off of the wall. I grab the picture of us that is wedged into the edge of the window and rip it in half.

Once I've vandalized the room about as much as I dare, I turn in a circle, looking for a big enough wall space to write on. What catches my eye instead is the wide mirror above her vanity.

I pull the spray paint out of my pocket and hold it up to the mirror, but pause. I only have a limited amount of room to work with, and the paint comes out pretty thick.

I frown, contemplating this as I shove it back into my hoodie. My gaze lands on her pretty extensive makeup collection, untouched on the vanity. It's the one thing in the room that I carefully left alone. I know how much Macy obsesses over makeup, and I'm not a _complete_ monster.

I reach out, picking up a red lipstick and twisting off the cap. It looks new, maybe not even used yet. This somehow makes it even more satisfying to flatten the tip against the mirror as I write, in big letters.

 _Who's the mad cow now?_

I pause, just about to sign it with the customary "A," out of habit more than anything. But I stop myself. Somehow I don't think that it's a good idea, this being my own personal revenge and all.

I stick the cap back on the lipstick and carefully replace it on the tray. Then I take one more look around the room, and, satisfied, flick off the light and climb back out the window.

The adrenaline has completely worn off by this point, and I lean against the brick side of the house, breathing hard. I just totally trashed my best friend's room. Sure, Macy can be a huge bitch, but I suddenly feel like a bigger one.

And the scariest part is…it was fun. Vandalism should not be fun. Anonymously breaking into people's houses should not be fun.

I'm beginning to think that there is something wrong with me. My hands shaking, I reach up and push down the hood, shaking out my hair. I turn back, glancing into Macy's bedroom and happening to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, behind the bright red words.

My hair is messy and a little frizzy from being pressed down by the hood, and my face is sweaty from trashing the room. But my eyes are big and sparkling, not with tears but with…joy.

I turn away and trudge back to the street, heading to my car. Can crazy really run in the family? I never used to think so, but after what I just did, I'm starting to doubt myself.

I remember thinking that living in an adrenalized hyper reality sounded kind of like a super power. But right now, I feel more like a villain.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed! Next, Viola's vow to keep anyone from getting hurt is officially broken.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you to RHatch89, TooSchweddy, nick2951, and Fun With Typing for the reviews. As always, I appreciate the support!**

Chapter 18

Maybe "A" appreciated the amount of guts I showed when I vandalized Macy's bedroom.

Or maybe they didn't appreciate it at all, and now I'm being punished.

Or maybe this isn't an order from Red Coat at all, but one from Mona. Considering what I'm about to do, that makes the most sense.

Pulling the hood tighter around my face, I press myself flat against the side of the school and pull out my phone one last time, skimming over the "A" message.

It's a yearbook photo, of some slightly nerdy-looking guy a grade above me. _Eliminate the competition. –A_ is written below it.

There aren't any other details about what I'm supposed to be doing, so I guess it's a good thing that I know what this is about. Mona has decided that not only is she going to join the academic decathlon team, but she wants to be team captain as well. That means that I somehow have to make sure that the current frontrunner for the position is not able to return to school for a while. Like, the rest of the year.

"A" sent me the picture and the message this morning, and I spent the entirety of the school day first figuring out who this kid is, then discreetly following him to figure out just how to make this happen. I still don't know his name, but I do know that he eats with his fingers, rides his bike to and from school every day, and has basketball practice until eight tonight.

I try and make myself invisible against the dark wall as a few kids pass, then check my watch. 7:52. I should have gotten here earlier, but I was still trying to figure out a plan.

Once the sidewalk is clear of people, I walk around the side of the building until I'm right outside the gym. I hop up on a bench and peer in one of the high windows. Basketball practice appears to be winding down, with the players putting the balls back on the rack and heading for the locker room.

I jump down and reach into the pocket of my hoodie, pulling out a wrench that I managed to steal from the toolbox in the garage. Then I sprint across the gym parking lot toward the bike rack. Not only do I need to be out of here before the team comes outside, but I also need to be home within half an hour, before my mother realizes that I've been doing my homework for a little too long.

Thank god there's only one bike locked to the rack, or I would have a serious problem. I'm pretty sure the kid I'm after rides a dark blue one, but I'm not sure enough. It's bad enough that I'm doing this to anyone at all. Inadvertently doing it to someone else would be way worse.

I kneel down beside the bike and secure the wrench around the bolt holding the front wheel in place. Trying to hurry without being reckless, I twist the wrench, but the leather gloves that I'm wearing don't have a strong enough grip to hold it properly. I groan impatiently and slip one off, being careful to touch only the wrench with my bare hand – I don't want to leave fingerprints on the bike, after all.

I loosen one bolt, then the other, leaving the wheel attached…but barely. I pull my glove back on and step back, contemplating doing the same to the rear wheel. Will one wobbly wheel be enough to cause a crash? I gently grab the handlebars of the bike and shake it a little, stopping when it becomes apparent that the front wheel is on the verge of falling right off.

I breathe a sigh of relief just as the gym doors burst open behind me. I gasp, shoving the wrench back into my pocket and darting around the corner, ducking into the nearest doorway just before the basketball team comes into view. I sit on the cold cement, pulling my knees up to my chest and holding my breath, trying to make myself as small as possible.

For a few moments, all I hear is typical boyish joking around as the team begins to part ways. I turn my head slightly, just able to see the bike rack, a few yards away. After another minute, the decathlon boy high fives another boy and heads over to it. To my relief, he unlocks the bike and hops on.

Before he even starts pedaling, I duck my head down and cover my eyes. I know what is going to happen, but that doesn't mean I necessarily want to watch, especially while he's riding on the concrete sidewalk.

I'm expecting the crash, but still jump practically out of my skin at the sound of the bike toppling over, accompanied by a cry of pain. I let out my breath, slowly, finally looking up. The boy is on the ground, the bike half on top of him. Its front wheel is rolling away, finally coming to rest a few feet away from me.

I squint in the dark, studying him. One of his legs seems to be twisted a little under the bike, and I can see a small pool of blood beginning to form under his head. But he appears to still be breathing, thank goodness.

The few other kids who have not yet vacated the parking lot run over, and I take the opportunity to leap up and dash off in the other direction. I'm happy to find that I at least feel guilty about this. Vandalizing someone's bedroom was one thing…but I just actually caused someone legitimate injuries. He'll probably have to go to the hospital because of this. Because of _me._

My lungs are burning by the time I get to my car, which I parked all the way on the other side of the school. As soon as I close the door behind me, I pull out my cell phone and make a quick call to 911, reporting a bike accident by the Rosewood High School gym. I'm sure one of the other kids did the same thing, once they ran over. But making sure he gets help makes me feel at least a little less horrible.

But not completely.

…

I'm at my locker the following day after school, finishing putting books away when my phone goes off. I pull it out, smile at Justin's name on the screen, and answer. "Hey."

"Hey," he replies.

After a long pause, I furrow my brow, check the connection, and say, "Uh, what's up?"

"Oh, sorry. Just getting used to hearing your voice again, I guess," he says jovially.

I sigh guiltily, even though he's clearly kidding. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. I feel like I haven't been to gymnastics in forever."

"You haven't," he confirms. "Last time you came to class was back in the beginning of September."

I know this, but hearing him say it still makes me wince. I remember last year, when gymnastics used to be a huge part of my life. I went to class every single week, no matter how much homework or activities I had, just because I enjoyed it (and getting to see Justin didn't hurt, either).

But lately, it seems like all of my time outside of school is spent either doing "A" team related things or worrying about them. I can't tell Justin that, of course, so I say the next best thing, which is also not necessarily untrue. "Junior year's been a killer."

He laughs, and I close my locker and lean against it, relieved that he's not too upset. "I get it. I remember," he adds, because he's a senior and just that much closer to getting out of high school. I almost hate him for it.

There's a pause, and I open my mouth to speak when he does first. "Hey. Guess where I am right now?"

"I have no idea," I say truthfully, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder and using both hands to shove my history book into my bag.

"At your school," he says, and I stop for a moment, stunned. I had expected him to say the gym, or Main Street, or even my house…definitely not my school. "You haven't left yet, have you? I thought I could pick you up, we could go somewhere. I can drop you off at your car later."

There are few things that I would like to do more than that. I haven't seen Justin in weeks, and haven't talked to him either, besides texting. But I look down the hallway, watching Spencer walk into a classroom, and groan. "I can't. There's something else I have to do."

"Cancel it," he insists. "Come on, Viola, we barely see each other anymore."

"I can't cancel," I say, taking a few steps down the hallway, as slowly as possible. "But hey. Why don't you come with me? Meet me at the main doors."

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Justin asks, but I can tell that he's no longer angry.

"I'll explain in a minute," I tell him, and put my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. Two minutes later, I meet Justin in the main hallway. As soon as I'm beside him, he turns back to the door, but I grab his arm. "We're not going anywhere."

"What?" he asks, his brow furrowing. "What's going on _here?_ "

"Come on," I say, linking my arm through his and pulling him toward the history wing. "I have to watch the quiz off for the academic decathlon team. The winner gets to be team captain."

"You're on the decathlon team?" he asks in amazement, catching up to me. "I didn't know that."

"I'm not. My sister is."

"Wait." He stops in his tracks, and since my arm is still linked with his, I jerk backwards, too. "I thought your sister was in an institution."

I grimace. Since our conversation after the masquerade, we never talk about that. My goal has always been to keep those two sides of my life very separate. I almost wish I hadn't told him to come with me today. "Um, she was. Not anymore."

I'm expecting him to react the same way that most people in my school do. But he shrugs and says, "Alright. Let's go."

I'm afraid that we're late, but the team is still milling around when I walk in. Two chairs have been set up behind a table in the front of the room, with two bells in front of them. A large rolling blackboard is a few feet away, split into two sides.

Justin walks over to lean against the back wall while I head over to my sister. "Hey."

"Hey!" Mona says cheerfully, tucking a large card under her arm. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," I reply, narrowing my eyes at the card. "What's that?"

She pulls it out, opening it up to show me. "Oh, just a card for Brad. After he fell off his bike? I'm sure he could really use some support from the team."

I stare at her for a long moment, not sure how to respond to this. Is this some kind of trick? Or was she really not the one to send me that order?

An awkward amount of time passes before I finally give up and shake my head. "That's nice." I force a smile. "I'll stand in the back. Good luck." I pat her shoulder and walk over to stand beside Justin, just as Andrew Campbell, the secretary of the team, stands up from his chair.

"Three rounds," he announces as Mona and Spencer take their seats behind the table. "Most correct answers wins. You've got ten seconds after you ring the bell. I'll read the questions, and Sam and Conrad will keep time and score. We good? Let's do this.

"Alexander Hamilton emigrated to the United States in 1772 from what Caribbean island?" he asks, and Justin glances over at me, his eyebrows shooting up. I shrug. I had not been expecting the questions to start off so severely.

Mona rings her bell immediately. "Nevis."

Spencer smirks, folding her hands in front of her. "St. Croix."

Andrew nods at the boy in front of the chalkboard. "Mona's got the quick draw, but this one goes to Spencer. Next question."

Things do not get much better from that point. The questions get progressively harder, and I do not understand a single one. I would feel pretty stupid if it wasn't for Justin beside me, who continues to give me incredulous looks.

Spencer is on a roll, and I'm getting more and more impressed. I've always known that she's smart, but not like _this._ Mona, on the other hand, is struggling. She keeps ringing in first, but then misspeaks or gets part of the answer wrong, only for Spencer to jump in and get the point in the next instant.

After about twenty questions, Justin pokes my arm and leans close to my ear. "Are you okay?" he whispers.

I jump at the sound of his voice and turn. I have been getting increasingly jittery and nervous this whole time. "Yes. Fine. Why?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I give him a look back, turning away and wiping my hand across my forehead. I'm surprised to find that I'm even sweating a little. But I can't help but be nervous. If Mona doesn't win this, that means I put an innocent boy in the hospital for absolutely nothing. I'm not sure I can handle that.

After another few minutes of Spencer rattling off answers like she has a computer for a brain, Andrew stands up, clearing his throat. "End of round two. Spencer's up by three points. Why don't we break?"

I'm thrilled by this. It's nearly four o'clock and I want to call my mother, let her know I'm not dead. And all of these questions, even though they're not directed at me, are beginning to make my head hurt.

But Spencer doesn't move. "I'm good to keep going."

I glance over at Mona. She is sipping almost frantically from her water bottle, fanning herself with her hand and looking a little green. I straighten up, alarmed, and say sharply, " _Spencer…_ "

Andrew glances back at me and I widen my eyes at him, shaking my head. He looks uncertain. "Mona?"

She caps her water bottle, her hands shaking. "I guess so."

"Are you sure?" He aims his gaze at Spencer. "I think she could use a break."

"She's fine," Spencer snaps, smiling thinly. "Just ask the questions."

"Oh, god." I groan and lean back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I turn my head and look worriedly at Justin. "Are you bored? You can go, if you want, but I should probably stay."

He glances at me only briefly, shaking his head. He looks mesmerized. "No way. This is better than football."

"Here we go," Andrew is saying once I start paying attention again. "Round three."

Ten minutes later, the score is tied and I feel like I am going to explode. Justin looks like he is watching the most intense sports event of all time. There is a brief pause, in which Andrew shuffles through his cards, and I say under my breath, "Oh my god, if Mona doesn't win this…"

"Geez," he mutters back, smiling at me. "You're a good sister. I mean, what does this have to do with you?"

 _More than you could ever imagine,_ I think, imagining poor Brad, unable to speak with an injured trachea, and feel a twinge of pain and guilt in my stomach. This has to end well, for someone at least.

Andrew finally speaks. "Spencer, you have ten seconds to begin your answer. Get it right, and you win. Name fifteen countries that became independent with the dissolution of the Soviet Union, in alphabetical order."

A triumphant smile spreads across Spencer's face. I grab Justin's arm, feeling my face go white as she begins, her voice full of confidence. "Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus…Estonia…"

Her voice trails off for a moment. Andrew clears his throat. "Spencer."

She shakes her head, her smile slipping a little. "Yeah, sorry. Just one second. Uh, Georgia…uh, Kurdistan…sorry, no, Kazakhstan, _then_ Kurdistan. Um, Lithuania."

I have no idea what she is even talking about, only that these are countries, but apparently Mona does, because she glances over. "You forgot Latvia."

Spencer ignores her completely. "Russia – "

"You forgot Moldova."

I begin to smile just as Andrew speaks up. "Spencer, that's time."

My sister smiles, meeting my eyes for a moment. "Let's see, what's left? Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Ukraine, and Uzbekistan."

But evidently this is not good enough for Andrew. "Mona, if you want the win, I need to hear the entire correct answer from you."

She smiles. "By population or gross domestic product?"  
I am so relieved that I nearly collapse against the wall.

I'm still a horrible person who put someone else in the hospital, but at least now I can say that it actually paid off.

...

 **Let me know what you think! The next chapter is pretty short (which is probably needed after this one!), but interesting. Viola begins to reach her breaking point when she decides that the newest "A" plan is going too far.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks to those who reviewed! This wasn't going to go up until tomorrow, but I ended up getting a fourth review last night, so here we are! The last chapter wasn't very exciting, but this one gets back into it. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 19

I am not a fan of the newest "A" plan.

Not that I am ever a fan of any "A" plan, considering most of them consist of partaking in illegal activities such as hacking, breaking and entering, and the occasional assault. But I've never been disgruntled enough to protest before now.

"This is ridiculous," I rant, pacing back and forth as best I can in the small apartment. It gets a little cramped with three of us all in here at once. "There's no way this is going to end well."

"I agree with you," Toby says, getting up from the couch. "It's too soon for this."

"I told you, it's not my decision," Mona says flatly, not looking up from the computer. She is trying to deactivate the security system of a not-yet open store in town, the same store that Hanna is supposed to have an interview at tomorrow afternoon.

Only there is no interview, obviously. It's all part of the new plan, the one I'm not a fan of. Instead of some fashionable interview lady, it's Toby who is going to meet Hanna in the store, which should be dark enough that she won't be able to recognize him behind the dark hoodie. He's going to attack her – not anything major, I've been told, just enough to scare her – and as he's leaving, he's going to purposely drop the key to the lair. At some point around the same time, either Mona or myself – but let's be honest, probably me – is going to sneak into Spencer's house and plant Toby's fake Radley ID card in one of the drawers.

The next part of the plan is mostly dependent on assumptions. We are assuming that Spencer will find the ID card with Toby's picture plastered next to what is not his real name. We are assuming that Hanna will give the key to the lair to Spencer for safe keeping. We are assuming that since the fancy dinner Spencer told Toby that she has to go to the night of their anniversary is fake, she will be home that night when he sneaks back in to retrieve the key.

That's the big thing that I don't like about this "A" plan, all the assumptions. It seems a little strange for "A," to be depending on things working out just right. But I guess, really, a lot of the plans are dependent on that.

I shake my head, taking Toby's place on the couch and folding my arms. "There's something…weird about this. It feels wrong." I glance at him, frowning. "Spencer's going to be destroyed."

He opens and closes his mouth, returning my gaze. Mona pushes herself away from the desk and stands up. "Don't you get it, Viola?" she snaps. "We have to show them that 'A' is still the one calling the shots."

I raise my eyebrows at her tone, and stand up, crossing my arms and looking down at her. "I know that. But I also know full well what it's like to feel betrayed. I'm leaving. Either give me the stupid ID or plant it yourself."

…

The plan worked perfectly. As usual.

I planted the ID card in one of Spencer's kitchen drawers without a hitch. Hanna delivered the key to her, prompting her to discover the fake ID when she went to put it in the same drawer. Toby snuck in, hoodie on, just as planned, and Spencer caught him rifling through the drawer. He escaped when her mother made a very convenient entrance – I love when things just happen to go our way – and Spencer spent the next few hours sitting outside of Toby's loft, sobbing and begging while my sister and I sat inside, her smiling, me covering my ears and trying not to hyperventilate.

The only thing we didn't plan on was that she would still have the key. She had it in her hand when she confronted Toby, and she still has it now. Fortunately, all she knows now is that it is to something marked "A." But as soon as she figures out what apartment building it's from – and she will, she's a Hastings, after all – we're screwed.

I'm a little jittery about this as I walk into the bathroom during study hall the day after all of this. Honestly, I wouldn't mind if the cops burst in and shut down the "A" lair and the game. But I don't really want to be either locked up in Radley or jail. And by this point, I'm so involved that I can't try and convince myself otherwise.

As much as I like to pretend that I'm only on the "A" team to keep anyone from getting hurt, along with keeping my own secret safe, I can't deny it anymore. I'm in deep. And I can't think of a way out.

I push into the bathroom and freeze. Spencer is standing at the sink, for once without the other girls around. She is staring at her reflection, barely moving. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is a little unkempt.

I wince and cautiously walk in, the door swinging silently shut behind me. I wait for a moment, and when Spencer does not acknowledge my existence, I clear my throat. "Um. Hey."

She jumps a little and turns. "Viola." I can tell that she's on edge. Ever since the masquerade, when I revealed that I knew about "A" for a lot longer than I let on, all four girls have barely spoken to me. They clearly don't trust me (not that they should), and it's gotten worse since Mona's been back.

I guess they can tell where my loyalties lie, even if I myself can't.

"Are you okay?" I ask, plastering a concerned expression on my face. "You look a little…frazzled."

"I'm fine," she says quickly, swiping a hand over her face and pushing her hair back. "Just…busy week, you know?"

"Hmm." I try to seem casual as I walk over to one of the sinks, adjusting my necklace in the mirror. I furrow my brow and turn back to her. "Um…hey, I heard…I heard that you and Toby broke up."

She looks at me sharply. "How? How do you know that?"

I have no answer for this, so I ignore the question instead. "I'm really sorry, Spencer. I know what it's like to go through a rough breakup."

Spencer averts her eyes, but I can see her face softening. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I'm not really ready to talk about it."

I bet she's not. I wonder if she's broken the news to the others yet, that Toby is part of the "A" team, but figure that she hasn't. If she had, we would probably know. "Gotcha," I say, smiling. "Your secret's safe with me."

I'm just about to enter a stall when she calls out. "Viola. You haven't…heard anything more, have you? From 'A'?"

My eyes grow large, and I'm thankful that I'm turned away so she can't see the inevitable redness that spreads across my face. She can't possibly know, can she? I made sure that no one was home when I snuck in with Toby's fake ID card. But I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the Hastings have, like, hidden cameras all over their house or something.

"No," I say, too fast, spinning around. "I mean, Mona was 'A.' You know she was sneaking out of Radley. But she's better now. 'A' is gone."  
She frowns at me, and I wonder for a moment if she can tell that I'm lying. "You don't know anything more about that night at the graveyard, do you?"

I gulp a little, loudly enough that she surely hears it. "Of course not. That message you guys got, after that night, it must have just been a prank or something."

Spencer nods, still looking curiously at me. I resist the urge to fidget uncomfortably until she finally speaks. "Right." She turns, and is almost out the door when I call out, "Hey."

She turns back, and I blurt out, "I'm sorry. Really." I mean that, not just towards her, but to all the girls, but I can't say what I'm really sorry for, so I cover with, "About Toby? That really sucks."

"Thanks, Viola," Spencer says, that note of suspicion still in her tone, and slips out the door. I slam into the bathroom stall and let out a breath that I hadn't even known I was holding.

...

 **I've always loved writing interactions between Spencer and Viola, and there are definitely more of those to come. Next up, Viola unknowingly plays a role in Spencer's final betrayal...and it just might be the last straw.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you to nick2951, Fun With Typing, RHatch89, and TooSchweddy for reviewing! Yes, this does follow the storyline of the show, mostly because I don't believe that Viola's presence would really change anything major. But some bigger differences are going to start popping up later in the story.**

 **As for this chapter, let me know what you think, as always!**

Chapter 20

"This is disgusting," I say, dumping another box on the floor of the RV. "And it's even smaller than the stupid apartment."

"We don't have a choice," Mona says, putting her box down next to mine. "Spencer's getting closer. She hired a private investigator."

"I know," I say, even though I didn't. "And I guess this makes sense. A movable lair, I mean."

She straightens up and looks around, satisfied. "Everything's here. You're good to unpack alone?"

I groan, staring around the RV at the boxes upon boxes of creepy "A" stuff. We've spent the last few hours throwing everything from the apartment into boxes and trunks and hauling it over here to the trailer park. I can't say that I'm thrilled about our new headquarters, but at least now when Spencer inevitably finds the apartment, it'll be completely empty.

"I guess," I answer, grimacing. "I'll probably be here all night. Oh. Here." I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out my key to the old lair, handing it to her. "This is the last one."

"Great," my sister says, dropping it into a little bag containing three other keys. "I'll drop it off on my way to the school."

"Good luck in New York," I say, kneeling down and opening one of the boxes. The decathlon team has a big competition this weekend, and I'm thrilled, because this means that aside from unpacking the new lair, I most likely won't have any "A" related duties all weekend. "Try not to get strangled this time."

Mona smiles a little, reaching up to touch the bruise on her neck. "Oh, don't worry. I'm making sure that Spencer gets exactly what she deserves."

I do not like the sound of that, and jump up in alarm. "Wait, what? What are you planning?"  
She reaches for the door, pulling it open. "Don't worry about it. I'll explain everything in a few days."

…

I walk into the Brew, my stomach churning. As much as I didn't like the last "A" plan, I hate this one even more.

Mostly because I really don't know what's going on. "All you need to do is find Spencer at the coffee shop," Mona told me this morning. "Make sure she follows me." When I asked for details, she refused to give them to me, only telling me that this is the final stage in our plan against Spencer.

Something about this makes me very nervous. I have a feeling that whatever Mona is going to lead Spencer to, it's going to be pretty terrible. Terrible enough that she doesn't want me to know ahead of time.

I order a plain coffee, even though I already feel like I'm going to explode, and immediately spot my sister sitting on one of the couches. I almost wave, but she shakes her head discreetly, so I look away.

It takes me a moment to locate Spencer, who is squatting on the staircase leading to the loft above the shop. It looks to me like I won't have to do much convincing here, but I walk over and kneel down beside her. "Hey. What are you doing?"  
She looks over at me, and I nearly wince. Her face is pale and her hair is tangled and frizzy. But I shouldn't have expected anything less. Just this morning, she broke the news to the other girls that Toby is a member of the "A" team.

I can practically see the betrayal in her eyes and force myself to calm down. After all, I have no idea how this plan is going to end. Maybe it won't be anything bad.

Yeah, right.

"Nothing," she whispers, waving me off.

I ignore the gesture, trying to look worried. "Why are you spying on my sister?" I ask quietly. "Do you think she's up to something?"  
Spencer gives me the same suspicious look that she did a few days ago, in the bathroom. "When is she not?"

I shake my head, hoping that my acting is at least a little believable. "That's true. She's been acting kind of weird lately. I think you might be right, that 'A' is still around."

Before she can respond, below us, Mona's cell phone goes off. "I'm on my way," she says into it, then stands and heads out the door without even a glance in our direction.

I panic for one brief moment, then remember the plan and grab Spencer's arm. "Um, hello? Come on, let's follow her!"

"You don't need to come with me," she says hurriedly, but she's already up and rushing for the door. I run after her, because yes, I do.

"I know how dangerous Mona is," I insist, following her out the door and getting in the passenger seat of her car before she can stop me. "I'm coming with you."

On any other day, in any other situation, Spencer probably would have argued further with me. But I can tell that she's too frazzled to make any sort of protest, so she just sighs and puts the car into gear, pulling out after my sister's.

"Viola," she says in a high voice as we drive through town, headed in the direction of the woods. "I need you to tell me the truth. Are you working with Mona?"

 _Yes._ "No," I say sharply. "Would I be following her into the woods with you if I was? I have no idea what's going on right now." At least that part is the truth. I wasn't told anything about going into the dark woods at night.

Mona parks her car on the outskirts of the woods, gets out, and heads right into the trees. Spencer and I exchange a glance. I do not have to fake my uneasiness. "Come on," I say, and leap out of the car. "Hurry." Together, we dash into the woods.

We rush through the trees, pushing branches aside for what seems like forever. It's getting darker and harder to see, but at last, Spencer pushes aside a branch and stumbles into a clearing. I nearly ram right into her, and gasp once I peer around her.

There's a small campfire set up, looking recently used, with a bit of smoke still rising out of it. A tent sits nearby. And in front of it lies a body.

I look at Spencer, genuinely horrified, but she is not looking back at me. She walks slowly over to the body, dropping down on her knees beside it. The person is clearly male, but the motorcycle helmet on his head makes it impossible to make out a face or even hair.

I can feel my heart beating hard. This can't really be part of the "A" plan, can it? Spencer may be pretty emotionally fragile right now, but what would be the point in leading her to some body? Although, I have to admit, finding a random dead person in the middle of the woods is frightening enough, "A" plan or not.

"Oh my god," I whisper, squatting down beside her. "Who is that?"

Wordlessly, Spencer bends down, examining something on the body. I lean closer as well, and my heart drops when I realize what she's looking at.

The person's shirt is slightly rolled up in one place, revealing a tattoo on their side. _901 free at last._

Toby's tattoo.

I gasp, swallowing hard and trying not to throw up. Toby can't be dead. He's a member of the "A" team…and the whole reason behind that is so he can protect Spencer. He wouldn't sacrifice himself for a team that he doesn't really want to be a part of, would he?

"Spencer…" I say quietly, tearing my eyes away from the body to look at her. She is staring down at Toby's body, her expression almost emotionless. "Is that…"

She shakes her head at me, reaching a hand out toward the helmet. I grimace and put my hand over my eyes. I do not want to see this. I do not want to see any of this. I think I'm going to be sick.

But just before she can wrap her hand around the helmet, my sister's voice cuts through the quiet. "He's dead."

We both spin around, but she's already gone, running through the trees. I put my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beating hard. Everything is starting to spin.

Someone else is dead because of this, this stupid game. Once again, my goal to keep anyone from getting hurt has failed.

" _Mona!_ " Spencer screams, leaping up and tearing after her. I jump to my feet, turning in a circle for a moment in a blind panic, and finally running off in the other direction.

I run blindly, trying to push branches and leaves out of my way, but still getting poked. I'm sure I'm bleeding in at least one spot, but my whole body feels numb. The only thing I'm aware of is the tears leaking out of my eyes.

I want to stop and just stop thinking, even if that means staying out here all night. My lungs feel like they're going to explode. But I keep running, because that's what I know I'm supposed to do.

I'm just beginning to wonder if I'm totally lost when I see a flash of color, and force myself to run faster until I finally trip around a tree, grabbing onto my sister's arm. She runs along beside me, almost _smiling._ I can hear Spencer's footsteps, crashing through the trees behind us.

My lungs are burning, my side aching, by the time I burst through the trees. I get to the car first, only due to having longer legs, and hurl myself into the passenger seat, barely able to breathe.

Mona jumps in beside me, looking out of breath but fairly calm, somehow. She fumbles through her purse, pulling out car keys.

It is only in the next few seconds, once I get my heart beat under control, that I finally burst into sobs. "Was that really Toby?" I gasp, my breathing shallow. "Is he really dead?"

She shoves the key into the ignition and slams on the gas. The car shoots out of the clearing, away from the woods. "Mona," I scream, because I'm sick of not getting any answers. " _Answer me!_ "

"He's not dead," she snaps, like I am the one being irritating.

"He's – what?" Even though I was hoping for this answer, I'm not really sure how to react. "Then who was…" I can't bring myself to finish that question.

"You don't need to worry about that. It's over. It worked."

I raise my hand to my heart, which is still beating wildly. "Toby's not dead," I repeat, shaking my head. I think of Spencer, of the look on her face when she saw the tattoo. In the weeks after she discovered that he was "A," she looked upset, angry, betrayed.

Tonight, she looked destroyed.

Broken.

And I'm partially to blame. "I can't do this anymore," I murmur, as we pull into the driveway. "I can't hurt people anymore."

Mona shuts off the car, pulling the key out of the ignition. "It's too late to back out, Viola," she says sharply. "If you try and leave the team now, you'll regret it."

She gets out of the car and slams the door without waiting for me. I try to follow but can't. I can barely feel my legs.

I sit the car for what seems like forever, thinking, but by the time I get out and go inside, I still have no idea what I'm going to do.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed. The next chapter's a long one. It's time for the fire at Thornhill Lodge, and Viola's about as confused as everybody else.**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm super excited for this chapter - like I said, it's one of my favorites, especially the beginning. Thanks to my usual faithful reviewers, and the few people who favorited/followed this story as well. I'll update again once I get five or six reviews, or by the end of next week, so let me know what you think!**

Chapter 21

"Hi. I'm here to visit a patient."

Unfortunately, I do recognize the nurse today. Her name is Sybil, she was Mona's favorite nurse when she was a patient here. She looks up at me and breaks into a smile. "Viola. It's nice to see you again."

I smile back at her. "You, too. I'm here to visit Spencer Hastings?"

Sybil turns to the computer and types for a few moments. She prints out a visitor's pass and hands it to me. I clip it to my shirt, feeling a wave of déjà vu. "That's funny. Your sister was just here this morning."

"I know." I follow her down the hallway leading to the recreation room.

"She's doing well." She pushes open the door, gesturing for me to enter.

I wince a little, doubting that, but nod to keep up the appearance. "Yeah, she's fine."

Sybil walks over to a girl with wild, frizzy hair, sitting with her back towards us at the piano. "Spencer," she says quietly, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "You have a visitor."

Spencer turns, and I hold in a gasp. She looks terrible, worse than I could have imagined. But I guess that's what happens when you have a complete mental breakdown in the middle of the woods and have to be taken in for a psychiatric hold.

Sybil leaves us alone, and I walk over, smiling. "Hey, Spencer."

She looks at me cautiously, clearly wondering how much I know. "What are you doing here, Viola?"

I grab one of the folding chairs from a nearby table and pull it up to the piano, glancing around the large, dull room that I am too familiar with. "Well, I'm not here for the nostalgia factor, that's for sure."  
She lets out a laugh that sounds more like a bark. I can tell that she's not comfortable with me being here. "Mona told you I joined the team," she says. It's not a question.

I shift a little in my chair. "Yes. Right when she got home. And I'm guessing she told _you_ that I'm already on the team?"

"No," Spencer says slowly, still tapping away melodies on the piano. "I came to that conclusion myself." There's a note of humor in her tone that's making me a little uneasy.

I hesitate for a moment, pressing my lips together. Spencer deserves to know the truth. And if she's on the "A" team now, she might already know. "About what happened in the woods – "

She cuts me off. "Toby's alive. I know. Mona told me." I smile for a moment, relieved, but it fades at her accusing look. "Did you know what was going to happen that night? Were you in on it?"

Of course she would think that, but I'm still a little offended. I shake my head earnestly. "No. Honestly, I didn't. I was just as surprised as you when we found the body."

We sit quietly for a second, while she plays the piano somewhat serenely, and I work up the nerve to bring up the real reason why I'm here. I take a breath and blurt it out all at once. "Why did you join the team?"

She stands up from the piano and walks over to the couch, obviously trying to put off answering. I follow, sitting down across from her. She looks at me and smiles sarcastically. "Because I _love_ ruining people's lives."

I roll my eyes, even though I really shouldn't have expected a straight answer. "No. That's why Mona's on the team."

She leans forward in one quick motion, her eyebrows shooting up. I push myself back a little. Something about Spencer's behavior seems a little erratic, and it's freaking me out. "And you," she says quietly.

I tear my gaze away, fiddling with my hands. "That's not true." I can't believe this. I came here to drill _her,_ to find out what's really going on. And now it seems like the tables have turned.

"Then why? What's in this for you?"

For a moment, I debate telling her the truth. Should I trust Spencer, now that she's officially on our side? The best solution is to be as vague as possible, I decide. " 'A' doesn't just have information on you four," I tell her, lowering my voice as a nurse walks past, glancing over at us. "I have secrets of my own. Secrets that I don't want getting out." She leans back against the couch and glances up at the ceiling. "Your turn," I insist. "What's your motive?"

For some reason, I expect that she'll tell me this time. Maybe it's because I just confessed my own reason for playing this horrible game. So I'm surprised when she laughs and says harshly, "Why do you think I would tell you that?"

"Whatever," I snap, because I have a feeling that asking a third time won't get me anywhere. And anyway, the atmosphere of this place is making my skin itch. I need to get out of here. "I just wanted to stop by, see how you're doing…" I smile, thinking of one last way to turn this back on her, and judging by her expression when I speak my next words, it works. "Welcome you to the team."

…

I think my favorite part of most schemes is the initial stage of planning, when I can still convince myself that this is not really happening.

I'm done with my part for the day, which was to make a design for professional looking invitations, so I'm currently stretched out on the sofa that's crammed in the RV, flipping through a magazine.

Spencer is sitting at the computer a few feet away, doing something techy that I don't understand. She was released from Radley yesterday, after choosing to stay for a few days after her seventy-two hour hold ended. I'm surprised that they didn't want to keep her longer. She still seems pretty jittery to me.

"You gave your friends the invitations?" I ask, mostly to break the silence. I already know the answer, but I'm bored.

She nods, still typing away. "They'll all be there."

"Good," I say just as my sister walks in.

She fills a mug with coffee, then pushes my legs down off of the couch and sits down next to me. I resist the urge to shove her off. "We like your plan," she says to Spencer. "You'll get your reward on Friday."

I grin a little at this. The reward is that Spencer is finally going to be reunited with the very much not-dead Toby.

Mona smiles, taking a sip of coffee. "Those bitches are finally going to get what they deserve."

I shiver. She has been very excited about this plan since Spencer came up with it the other day. "You're freaking me out," I say, snatching the mug out of her hands. "You don't need this." I take a big gulp, even though I don't like coffee that much, and hand it back. "I have to go. I'll be back later."

…

The Thornhill Lodge is huge and beautiful, just like everything else that the Hastings family owns. It's the perfect place to hold a soiree…too bad that's not really happening.

What's really happening is that Aria, Hanna, and Emily _think_ there's going to be a soiree, to celebrate Spencer's release from Radley. But when they get to the lodge, they're not going to be met with caterers and ball gowns. They're going to be met with us.

That's where the plan gets a little fuzzy for me. I know that Red Coat has something planned, something in store for all the girls. Something big is going to happen tonight, and I can't figure out if I'm excited or terrified to find out what it is.

I'm standing in front of the mirror in the lodge's living room, braiding my hair, when Spencer delivers the bad news. "They're running late," she says, checking her phone.

"How late?" I ask, flipping my braid in front of one shoulder and adjusting the hood of my black sweatshirt.

Instead of answering, Spencer leans over to Toby and kisses him. I glance at Mona and we both roll our eyes, on the same page for once. "They're on their way," Spencer answers finally. "That's all I know."

"She's expecting all of you to be here," Mona says, oddly nervous for someone who is usually calm to a frightening extent. It's making me a little jittery, myself.

Spencer sighs. "And we will be."

"You have no idea what she's capable of, Spencer. Trust me. You don't want to disappoint her."

I flinch at this. Lately, my curiosity toward Red Coat's true identity has been basically eating me alive. Maybe tonight's the night that I'm finally going to find out who she is…maybe that's the plan.

"I saw them getting ready," Toby interjects, showing us a video on his phone, of Hanna, Aria, and Emily standing in Hanna's kitchen, dressed in fancy dresses and heels. "And I have the video you asked for. They don't suspect anything."

Mona pulls her burner phone out of her pocket, dialing a number. "How far away are you?" she asks after a moment. I strain my ears, but I can't make out the voice on the other end. "It's safe for you to land. It's finally about to end. You're getting what you always wanted."

"Red Coat's _flying_ here?" I demand once she puts away the phone. I roll my eyes and scoff, "That's inconspicuous."

Mona ignores me, as usual, turning on Spencer. "She doesn't know the others aren't here yet."

"I told you, they're coming." Spencer looks unfazed, at least until my sister grabs a large flashlight from the table.

"Why don't we go for a walk while we wait?"

She smacks the flashlight against her hand, and I feel myself go cold. This was not supposed to be part of the plan. What is going on here?

Toby reaches out, grabbing the flashlight. "I'll take care of Spencer."

He grabs her arm, and she gasps, her eyes widening. "Toby?"

Mona looks giddy. "I know how you feel, Spencer. It sucks to be lied to."

"Get up," Toby growls, yanking his girlfriend up off of the couch.

"I believed you!" Spencer cries, but allows him to pull her up. She struggles against Toby, who is holding the flashlight with one hand and her arm with the other. "You won't get away with this."

Mona smirks at her. "I'd say 'watch me,' but you won't be here to see it."

"Mona!" I scream as Toby pulls Spencer out the door. "What the hell? He's going to pummel her with a flashlight?" My heart is beating hard in my chest. I rush over to the door, but they've disappeared. I wouldn't have agreed to this plan if I knew that Spencer was going to get hurt.

I think back to that night several weeks ago, when I first discovered that Toby was on the "A" team. He told me that he was a double agent, that he was only doing this to protect Spencer.

Was that all a lie, to get me to believe him, or is there something going on here that I'm not aware of? Spencer _did_ seem a little lackluster in her resistance, and I really can't imagine Toby beating her over the head with an oversized flashlight.

"Come on," my sister says, pulling up her hood. "She's landing soon."

I press my hand to my stomach, doing the same. "Fine," I say quietly, and follow her through the doorway.

But we don't get very far before Hanna appears out of nowhere, directly in front of us. "Going somewhere?" In the next instant, Emily comes in from the next room, and Aria rushes down the stairs. Their fancy dresses and heels have been switched out in favor of dark clothes and boots. We're trapped.

I have never seen Mona so furious. "You're making a terrible mistake," she snaps, trying to dodge Hanna.

"That's not how we see it," Emily says, moving to block the other doorway.

"That's because you don't see! You have no idea what's going on here."

"We know enough," Aria says sharply, even though they clearly don't, because I don't even know enough, and I'm in on this.

"Guys, seriously," I beg, looking at each of them in turn. "This is not a good idea. You need to get out of here."

For a moment, the three girls just look at me. I see hurt in their eyes and tear my gaze away. They hadn't realized that I was on the "A" team, I figure, suddenly feeling terrible all over again.

But really, they should have.

There's silence for a moment, as all five of us stare each other down. I'm just starting to wonder what's going to happen next when I feel heat on my back. I whirl around, my mouth dropping open, but no scream comes out. A fire is blazing right outside the windows. The others turn, their expressions turning horrified. "What have you done?" Mona cries, stumbling back.

"We have to get out of here, come on!" I rush down the hallway, away from the fire, the others following. Was this the plan all along? Was this all a trick, so Red Coat could burn us all to the ground and have the game all to herself?

The fire is spreading fast, beginning to consume the large room. I pull out my burner phone, holding it up, but the signal is gone. Emily is doing the same thing, and apparently gets the same result, because she screams out, "Mona, try your phone!"

She fumbles with it for a moment, having to yell above the sound of the crackling flames. "Nothing!"

"How can you not have a signal?" Aria demands, walking back and forth aimlessly. "We saw you make a call!"

"It's her, don't you get it?" Mona yells, in a complete panic now. "She can do anything. She's everywhere, and she's nowhere."

"Was this her stupid plan all along?" I finally chime in, racing down the hallway to the door at the opposite end. "To burn us all to death?"

Hanna shoves past me, grabbing the doorknob. "Come on, let's get out of here." She yanks the door open, and we all shriek, leaping back as we are met with a complete wall of fire.

I shove past the others, running back the way we came, but the other door will not budge. "It's locked!"

Mona lags behind us, looking on the verge of tears. "We're gonna die. We're all gonna burn."

"Shut up, Mona!" Hanna screams, pulling frantically at the locked door.

"I'm never gonna know who she is."

The room is probably near ninety degrees, but my entire body goes cold. "What?" I demand, whirling around.

"What did you just say?" Aria gasps. The raging fire is temporarily forgotten.

"Red Coat," my sister cries. "I don't know who she is either."

I feel like I am going to pass out, and I don't think it's just from smoke inhalation. I would kill her, if we weren't all about to die anyway. "I can't believe this!" I shout, grabbing her arm, partially to keep myself upright. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"You guys, we have to get out of here," I hear Emily say, but her voice sounds distant and foggy. The fire swirls on either side of us, the thick smoke filling the hallway. I cough, my lungs burning and my vision beginning to tilt. The last thing I'm conscious of is my knees giving out.

...

 **Next chapter, Viola and the others deal with the aftermath of the fire.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Five reviews! That means a speedy update, yay! Thank you to all of the wonderful people who reviewed. And Mr Tea The dino, to answer your question, "A" has big plans in mind for Viola...and that's all you're getting. This chapter and the next are not very exciting, mostly just followup of the lodge fire, but in a few chapters, things really start to pick up. Even so, let me know what you think!**

Chapter 22

I wake up to the feeling of my body being dragged across something cold and damp, but my eyes feel too heavy to open. My head bumps something hard, and I finally cough, my lungs tight and sore.

I'm dead, right? I have to be. The last thing I remember is collapsing in the lodge, with Mona, Aria, Hanna, and Emily. We're all dead. Right now I'm probably being dragged into, I don't know, the afterlife or something.

I cough again, my whole body aching now, and I finally feel myself come to a stop, my arms hitting the ground. I try to breathe, but the smell of smoke is too overpowering.

But that doesn't make sense. If I was dead, I wouldn't still be able to smell the smoke, would I?

I brace myself for the worst, then crack my eyes open, just a bit. I'm not dead. I'm laying on the ground, far from the lodge, which is completely blazing with fire. I pull myself up on my elbows, which makes me cough harder, just in time to see a flash of red disappear behind a tree. _Red Coat?_

I look around, still having to squint. Hanna, Emily, and Aria lay just a few feet away. They are sitting up as well, coughing just as hard as I am. Their faces are practically covered in ash. I reach up, wiping at my own cheek. My fingers come away black.

"Did anyone see her?" I glance up as Mona rushes over, kneeling down beside me.

"See who?" I ask, my throat aching.

"Alison. She pulled me out of there, she pulled us all out."

I frown at her, very confused, and thinking back to that flash of red. I guess I assumed it was Red Coat, but that doesn't make very much sense, if she was the one to set the fire. But, then again, it doesn't make much more sense for it to have been Alison.

"No," Aria says from my left. "You're hallucinating."

"She was here," my sister insists frantically, grabbing my arm. "I swear it."

Concerned, I press the back of my hand to her forehead, checking for a fever. But judging by how hot I feel, I'm pretty sure I have one as well. "Ali's dead," Emily mumbles, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Hanna, though, looks up, shaking her head. "I saw her too," she whispers, so low that I can barely hear her.

"So did I," a much louder voice speaks from above us. Spencer runs over, still wearing her fancy soiree dress. I stare at her for a moment, stunned. I guess Toby didn't pummel her with a flashlight after all.

I rub at my eyes, regretting it when the soot makes them sting. "I saw someone in a red coat disappear around a tree, just a second ago," I say, mostly to myself. "You guys don't think it could have been…"

I can't bring myself to finish what is probably a completely ridiculous statement, but Spencer's eyes widen as she looks down at the rest of us. Then she speaks, and her words chill me to the bone. "Ali's Red Coat."

…

"So all of this started when you were in Radley?"

I lean back against the seat, thankful that my breathing is finally under control. Even though we arrived in three separate cars, we all decided to try and fit into one on the way back. No one wanted to drive alone, after what just happened. I think I'll be sleeping with all the lights on tonight.

Emily's driving, with Spencer in the passenger seat and the rest of us squished in the back. I'm crammed in between Mona and Aria, feeling uncomfortably warm in the thick hoodie.

"I made a deal with the devil," Mona says faintly, shaking her head. "And she gave me a way in and out of that place…at first it was fun, having a partner. But then the game changed. She stole you from me."

I sigh, closing my eyes. "Nice word choice."

Emily glances back through the rearview mirror, her brow furrowed. "So what happened that night?" she asks, and I think she's talking about the night Ali died until she continues. "Were you there at the cemetery? Did you drug me? Did you take Ali's body?"

"I don't know who drugged you. But I was at the cemetery, and so was Red Coat."

"How could you not see who it was?" Spencer asks, twisting around.

"She was wearing a mask," Mona insists. "She looked just…like Ali."

"Hey," I pipe up, opening my eyes. "That's probably what happened tonight, then. That wasn't Alison, it was just a mask."

Everyone seems to be okay with this explanation as the church comes into view. I breathe out a sigh of relief at being back in Rosewood, something I never thought I would do. But anything's better than being trapped in a burning building in the middle of the woods.

A water-soaked car is parked outside of the church, and Hanna and Aria gasp simultaneously as it comes into view. "Guys," Hanna says quietly. "Wait. Is that…?"

"Someone pulled it out of the lake," Aria concludes.

I recognize that this is a police car, most likely Detective Wilden's. Hanna's mother hit him with her car a few weeks ago when he was antagonizing her, and he's been missing ever since. A few days ago, the car appeared in Hanna's garage.

Okay, it didn't just appear there. Mona put it there. I know this, but I figure the others don't, so I stay quiet.

Anyway, the car contains a laptop computer, which is set to play on a loop a video of Wilden tumbling over the hood of the car and being left on the ground.

I figured they'd gotten rid of it somehow. But until now, I hadn't realized what they must have done with it. "You guys pushed his car into the _lake?_ " I cry as Emily parks. We all climb out and rush toward it. But that's not the real question that's bothering me. _Who pulled it out?_

We crowd together along one side of the car, peering through the windows. Despite the fact that the car has been submerged in water for who knows how long, the laptop is in as good condition as ever, the video still playing on an endless loop. I've seen it multiple times, most recently when I was rigging it to play on that laptop and not stop, but it's still hard for me to watch Wilden's body thrown launched backwards onto the street.

"We've got to get this out of here," Hanna says desperately, watching as her mother climbs into her car and knocks Wilden right out of the way.

The video seems to end, but glitches, then suddenly progresses forward. "There's more," I gasp, leaning further into the window and nearly pressing my face against it.

Tiny on the screen, two girls come into view, rushing over to Wilden and pulling him to his feet. They loop their arms around him and help him walk out of view of the camera.

My mouth falls open. One of the girls I recognize only vaguely, but the other I know well.

"It's Jenna…and Shana? They know Wilden?"

We all exchange horrified glances, and I knock at the window, wondering if the glass has been worn down at all. It hasn't.

"Guys," Spencer calls out, and I look up. She and Mona have walked around to the back of the cruiser. "Look at the trunk."

We hurry over to join them. Sure enough, the trunk is slightly propped open, as if something has been stuffed inside that doesn't quite fit.

"Oh my god," I groan, a thought occurring to me. "You guys don't think…"

The sound of six cell phones going off cuts me off, thankfully, because I'm not sure if I had it in me to finish that question. Shakily, everyone pulls their phones out of various pockets and purses. I don't bother to get out my own. I'm fairly confident that they are all going to say the same thing, so I lean over Mona's shoulder instead.

The text appears on the screen, and Emily reads it aloud. "You're mine now. Kisses."

I can barely believe how the text is signed, and even though I'm barely aware of speaking, my voice comes out at the same time as my sister's. " _A."_

The four other girls all look over at us, just as surprised as I feel. This is all wrong. We don't get "A" texts, we _send_ them.

Have we just been kicked off of the team for something that was totally out of our control? I feel a sudden rush of surprisingly mixed emotions. Do I really _want_ to be off of the "A" team?

Before I really have time to think about this, Spencer is reaching forward to open the trunk. I take a step back, bracing myself. I'm absolutely positive that we are about to be faced with Wilden's decaying body.

The trunk springs open, and we all gasp, leaping back as the pungent smell fills the air. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

But it's not a dead body.

It's a dead pig.

My hand flies up to cover my mouth and nose as I try and shield myself from the smell. I'm relieved that we're not looking down at a human corpse, but a little confused, too. Why would "A" leave a dead pig for us to find? This seems like some sort of metaphor or riddle or something. "A" doesn't do things just for the heck of it. There's always a motive.

I am so disgusted that it takes me a moment to realize that our group of six has decreased to five. Aria notices my expression and her eyes widen. "What the – where's Mona?"

"This was all her," Hanna exclaims. "She set us up."

They all turn on me, and I step back, shaking my head. "I have no idea, you guys, I swear."

The general consensus is that we all need to get out of here before something terrible inevitably happens. Spencer, Aria, and Emily take off jogging toward the car, but I exchange a glance with Hanna and begin moving around to the front of the car.

Sure enough, Mona has not ditched us. She is sitting in the front seat of the car, fiddling with the laptop. "Hanna, Viola," Spencer calls from beside the car, and I feel a sudden surge of gratitude at finally being included, even if it is a little too late. "Come on!"

I yank open the door of the car and repeat, "Come _on!_ "

"God, Mona, what are you doing?" Hanna demands, looking around frantically.

"Saving your mom," my sister says flatly, not looking up.

I spot two people walking down the street, hand-in-hand, coming in our direction. They don't seem particularly concerned with what we're doing…in fact, they don't even seem to notice us. But still, six teenagers, most of whom are dressed in black, standing around next to a water-soaked car never looks good. Not to mention the dead animal in the wide-open trunk. "Crap, guys," I call out, straightening up so quickly that I slam my head on the car. "Someone's coming!"

The other girls come running back, attempting to quite literally drag us away with cries of, "Hurry up!"

"They're coming, Mona, come on," Hanna insists, as the other girls run for the car, leaping inside and starting the engine.

"Hurry up!" I practically scream, my eyes following the couple as they draw nearer, their eyes on us now. "Come on!"

"Got it," Mona finally says after what seems like an eternity, pulling some sort of chip out of the computer. I yank her out of the car just as Emily pulls up. The three of us hurl ourselves into the back and we shoot down the street.

I let out a breath of relief, collapsing back against the seat and pressing my hand to my chest. "God, that was scary."

This is probably the biggest understatement of my life.

...

 **Let me know what you think! Next chapter is short, as Viola and Mona deal with some damage control after being officially kicked off of the "A" team.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks for the reviews! Next chapter is where things start to speed up a little more, so let me know what you think of this chapter and stay tuned for an update!**

Chapter 23

When I wake up, I swear that I can feel smoke in my lungs.

My throat tightens and I sit up, my eyes popping open as I gasp for breath. After a moment of panic, I finally calm down enough to look around.

I'm curled in a chair in Spencer's living room, in the exact same position that I fell asleep in last night. It was just a nightmare, I tell myself, reaching up to brush my hair out of my eyes. I'm fine. I even washed all of the ash off of my face last night.

As soon as I remember this, all of the _other_ events of last night come rushing back to me. The actual fire. The water-logged car. The dead pig.

Ugh.

After we narrowly escaped being caught at yet another suspicious looking scene, we went to Spencer's house for the night. No one wanted to spend the night alone.

But it's not like anyone really slept much, anyway. Most of the night was spent interrogating Mona, and to a lesser extent, myself. She confessed, among other things, that Shana is in love with Jenna, that they are both afraid of Melissa, and that she doesn't know who pushed Ian off of the bell tower.

I confessed, among not much else, that I've been lying about being on the team for months, that I knew all along that the game was still very much active.

I yawn, rubbing my eyes. The third degree finally ended around two in the morning, but everyone tossed and turned for a while before falling asleep. I'm pretty sure I was only really out for around three hours.

Glancing around the room, it takes me a minute to realize something, just as the others are rising. Someone is missing. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out who.

Naturally, it's Spencer who makes the connection. "Mona's gone."

"I don't remember falling asleep," Hanna adds, sitting up from the floor and looking around in confusion.

"Did she drug us?" Aria demands, nearly falling off of the couch, and Emily adds under her breath, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"No, guys, she was asleep before I was," I insist, though I'm beginning to doubt my own memory. This is a little strange, I have to admit. And Emily's right. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You guys," Spencer says suddenly, her face paling. "She still has that chip."

"Viola." Hanna spins around to face me. "Run to your house, see if she's – "

But before she can finish that, and before I can protest – I really don't think I have it in me to run anywhere – the front door opens and my sister walks in, a white paper bag in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other.

She looks around at all of us, noticing our stares. "Oh, Emily. I borrowed your car."

Emily gapes, then glances over at the counter, where her car keys sit, untouched.

Mona follows her gaze and shrugs. "Yeah, I have my own set."

This reminds me of something, but I can't remember what. I cross in front of Aria and ask, "Where did you go?"

"Coffee run."

I roll my eyes. "Um, duh."

"Where _else_ did you go?" Hanna interrupts, walking over to stand beside me.

Whenever she is asked a question that she does not want to answer, Mona's general strategy seems to be to ignore it altogether. This is what she does now, handing out the coffees on the tray instead. "Americano, one pink. Dry soy cap. Super-sized drip, with three sugars. Skinny vanilla. And green tea for you," she adds, handing me a slightly smaller cup. "I know you don't drink coffee."

I am not the only person staring. Obviously being "A" means that you learn a lot about whoever you're stalking, but even I am a little freaked out by this level of knowledge, and I am also "A." "You're freaky," I mutter, taking a sip of my tea.

"I want the chip, Mona," Hanna demands, holding out her hand and placing her coffee on the table. "And I want it now."

"And I also got breakfast," my sister not-so-gracefully changes the subject. "Multigrain scone?"

Hanna scowls. "I'm not in the mood to play room service."

"I wish I could give it to you, Hanna…but I can't."

Hanna opens her mouth, but I beat her to it. "Oh, come on. What's the deal? You and I both got texts from 'A,' last night, if you've forgotten. It's over. We're out."

Mona glares around at all of us. "I need to find out who Red Coat is. And so do you. She tried to kill all of us, so like it or not, we're in this together."

"Okay." Emily crosses her arms. "Prove it."

"Yeah, we want everything you have on us," Aria adds. "Now."

I exchange a glance with my sister, and shrug. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't show them the lair, if it's really true that we're all in this together now. I'm actually a little curious to see how they react to seeing all of their secrets up close and personal.

Mona nods at me and smiles. "Mi casa es su casa."

"In English!" Hanna shouts.

Spencer leans over to her, clearing her throat. "Um, they're taking us to their lair."

We pile into Emily's car once again, brushing the leftover ash and dirt off of the seats. I can't get rid of the nagging worry as we pull out of the driveway. Red Coat is obviously still around, and judging by last night's text, she's mad.

Is taking the girls to the lair really a good idea?

…

"Are you sure where we're taking this is safe?"

It's kind of hard to pace back and forth in an RV while it's moving, but I'm managing. There's a passenger seat in the front, but I'm too nervous to sit down.

"It'll be fine, for a few days," Mona calls back, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "No one's lived around here in years. And we're locking it in."

"Oh, right," I say sarcastically, pushing past the curtain and sitting down. "Because 'A' can't figure out how to work a lock." I cross my arms, watching the road for a few moments, then say, "Was Melissa really the other Queen of Hearts on that video? With Wilden?"

"Yes," she replies, "but they were both being blackmailed by 'A.'"

"By you," I clarify.

" _No._ By Red Coat. The only contact I had with Wilden was giving him those bullets."

I wince and go quiet, chewing on a nail. I still can't believe that I indirectly led to Garrett's murder. If only I had been caught getting into my father's gun safe. If only I hadn't been able to get it open…an innocent, albeit sketchy, man might still be alive.

I shake that thought from my head. Wilden was obviously working on "A's" orders. And when "A" wants someone dead, they somehow manage to carry it out, one way or the other.

At the thought of Wilden, bile rises in my throat. I suddenly can't get the image of his body, laying flat on the sidewalk by the car, out of my head. We'd spotted it on our way to the lair yesterday morning, after leaving Spencer's.

I can't imagine why "A" would want to kill Wilden, other than to set us up for his murder. I thought Wilden was helping "A." But I guess once you're no longer of use, you need to be gotten rid of. Maybe Wilden couldn't be trusted to keep the secret.

Maybe he even knows who Red Coat is.

 _Knew._

I grimace, suddenly a little carsick. "Crack the window, please."

"No need. We're here," my sister says, pulling up in front of what looks like an abandoned farm. A huge fence looms ahead of us, open, and she steers the RV behind it. "Come on."

We hop out and I wave to Hanna, getting out of her own car behind us, as Mona pulls the gate closed and fiddles with the padlock. "Thanks for helping," she says as Hanna approaches.

She smiles, but looks fairly uncomfortable. "We're in this together now, right? Kind of like old times."

Mona smiles back, clicking the lock into place. "That should do it."

I reach over and pull on the fence, just to make sure. "I guess. It's kind of rusty, though." I tilt my head back, looking up to the top of the fence. It must be at least fifteen, twenty feet up, but I'm sure someone with enough motive could easily climb it.

Hanna seems to be having similar reservations. "Are you sure it's safe in here?"

"Yeah," Mona says again, glancing at me. "I mean, it'll be fine for a few days."

We head back to Hanna's car. She volunteered to follow us out here in order to give us a ride back, because Mom was concerned when neither of her children came home the other night, and I really didn't want to arouse more suspicion.

"You know," Hanna says sharply, looking back worriedly at the RV. "There's stuff in there that can bring us all down."

I flinch instinctively, thinking of that picture of Ian and me. As far as I know, that's the only secret that "A" has on me, and even that one little piece of information is enough to permanently give me nightmares. I can't imagine my whole life being documented like that. I'd never leave my house again.

At Hanna's words, Mona gets a funny look on her face. I nudge her. "What's wrong with you?"

She ignores me, looking right at Hanna. "I just haven't thought about you and me as an 'us' for a long time."

"Oh my god," I groan, climbing into the backseat of the car and slamming the door. "Shut up. Let's just get out of here, before someone finds us with this thing."

...

 **Next up, a missing RV puts Viola's loyalties to the test.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, Pinkpoodle8, Fun With Typing, and Mr Tea The dino for reviewing! As always, I appreciate the support. Let me know what you think of this chapter...next one should hopefully be up soon, and it's a big one, where things really start to pick up again.**

Chapter 24

 _Closed caskets keep secrets. His is open and exposes yours._

I switch my phone off and shove it into my purse, my hands shaking even though this is the fourth time that I've read it. I'm still not used to getting "A" messages. It feels weird, being on the receiving end, and every time my phone chimes, whether it's from "A" or not, I feel a new wave of sympathy for Spencer, Aria, Emily, and Hanna. I can't imagine dealing with this for as long as they have.

"Do you think 'A' really planted something in there?" I hiss, wrapping my hand around Mona's arm. "Or is this just some kind of trick? Like, someone's gonna burst in and find us elbow deep in a casket. 'A' would love that."

"Shh," she whispers back, elbowing me just as the sound of heels clacking down the wooden floor of the church grows closer.

It takes me a second to make out the slim figure who enters the room. It's Spencer. She looks down at her phone, most definitely at the same message, I would guess, and begins to approach the casket.

A phone begins to ring, so suddenly that I jump, checking my cell even though it doesn't sound anything like my ring tone. I'm so distracted that I don't notice Mona walking out of the shadows until I hear her say, "Looks like we got the same 'A' message."

I hurry after her, and Spencer jumps in surprise, looking over. The phone continues ringing, and with a sick feeling in my stomach, I glance slowly over at the casket. "Oh my god, it's in there."

Slowly, I follow the older girls towards it, until we're standing directly in front of the casket. For a moment, we all glance at each other. No one wants to be the one to actually lift the lid.

It's Spencer who finally reaches out, carefully opening the coffin. I hold my breath, recoiling a little, but the sight of Wilden's body isn't as gruesome as I feared. He's been embalmed, obviously, and looks almost peaceful, if a little pale. And sure enough, tucked in the pocket of his shirt is a cell phone.

I twist my hands together, shaking my head. Looking down at a dead body is one thing. There's no way I'm getting any closer. Spencer reaches down hesitantly, looking as nauseated as I feel as she pulls the phone out, of course the second it stops ringing. "Blocked," she mutters, holding it out for us to see.

There it is, the first number after the "Missed Calls" label. But, just as I expected, there's no number. There is, however, a name.

" _Kisses?_ " Mona reads, staring down at the phone.

Spencer's finger hovers over the name. "Redial?"

"I'm not leaving here until you do," my sister says quietly, and I nod, adding, "Hurry."

Spencer presses the redial button and holds the phone up to her ear. A female voice answers, but I can't make out just who it is until Spencer says, shocked, "Hanna?" She holds the phone out, turning it to speaker.

"Why are you calling me on my mom's phone?" Hanna's voice comes through, tinny and confused.

"I thought your mom was in New York," I blurt out, rubbing my forehead. What would "A" want to do with Ms. Marin?

Mona checks her watch. "The service is starting soon. We need to get out of here."

Spencer ends the call just as footsteps begin to echo down the hallway, growing closer. "Come on," she says, and we rush from the room and into the chapel.

I stare at Wilden's body throughout the whole service, unable to get rid of the feeling that bugs are crawling all over me.

But at least "A" was kind enough to wait until the end of the service to continue their reign of terror. The next text comes when we're all standing outside of the church.

 _Truth won't set you free, bitches. I'm going to bury you with it. Kisses, A_

…

It is clear that none of the girls trust us yet. But I can't say that I blame them. I mean, Mona did torture them all as "A" for over a year, and I can't claim much more innocence. I was just as involved as she was for the past few months, and I don't expect them to believe anything I say.

But as long as Red Coat is still out there, now with _me_ on her radar, I'm not going to sit back and let them leave me out. I'm sure they'll come around and start to trust both of us, eventually. And I'm not going to give them any reason to rethink that. The way I see it, the past doesn't matter. We're all on the same side now.

Apparently my sister feels the same way, because when Spencer finally demands to search the RV for proof that neither of us are still involved in the game, Mona doesn't hesitate.

And neither do I. This seems like the final straw, the final thing that will make them realize that we're all equals now. I'll do whatever it takes. After all, we need to stick together against the real bad guy…you know, the one trying to frame us all for murder and everything.

It's dark by the time we pull up in front of the farm, the place where we dumped the RV just yesterday. "Take this," I say, handing Mona a flashlight and following her out of the car. The others are already there, huddled in a group and whispering, but they go quiet as we pass them. I notice.

I stop beside them, watching Mona unlock the fence and push it open. For a moment, she freezes. "Oh my god."

"What?" I ask, rushing over. As soon as I'm close enough to peer inside the fenced-in area, I feel my blood run cold.

It's empty. Completely and totally empty, with no giant RV in sight. "Oh my god, it's gone," my sister says again, whirling around.

There is something strange going on here, I decide, turning in a circle and looking all around as the girls demand, "What do you mean, it's gone?"

"This is where we left it. I mean, you saw me, Hanna. I haven't been back here since."

I look over at her, my doubt growing. I want to believe her, just like I always do. But my mind flashes back to those moments, all those times over the past few months when she seemed so enthusiastic about the "A" plans, so _into_ the game. She was doing it because she liked it, because she actually enjoyed creating schemes that would frighten and hurt these girls.

Does that sort of passion go away so easily? Can one night really change that? I only joined the team in the first place so my own secret didn't get out, and I still found myself missing it a little as I lay in bed last night, missing the planning and the thrill of adrenaline when I was carrying out an order.

There is something more to this story, and I feel a surge of anger replace my fear. Slowly, I cross my arms and turn, walking to stand beside the other girls. Five against one, and my sister notices. "I swear," she cries out. "Somebody stole it."

Hanna's eyebrows shoot up. "Somebody?"

"Let's get out of here," Spencer says, shaking her head.

She and Hanna turn away immediately, not looking back as they head for the car they arrived in. "That somebody wasn't me!" Mona pleads, her eyes meeting mine. "Viola…"

She sounds genuine, but I can't help but remember most of my sophomore year, when she managed to stalk four girls without anyone's knowledge. Obviously, lying is not a problem for her.

I stare at her for a long moment, my irritation growing as it becomes clear to me. Mona didn't stop playing the game that night at the lodge. She just made sure that I no longer could.

I take a deep breath, forcing down my anger, and take a step toward Aria and Emily, who are both staring at me, wide-eyed and clearly unsure of where my loyalties lie. "I'm going to get a ride back with you guys, if that's okay."  
"Of course," Aria says quietly, averting her eyes and nodding. "It's fine."

It looks like I've finally gained their trust. All it took was my sister losing it.

Mona stares at me for a second, hurt written all over her face. For the first time, I am not even tempted to buy into her fake sad act. For once, it's not going to work.

I'm done.

I raise my eyebrows and shift my position to stand directly between the others. Finally, she turns, walking back to her car and getting inside. I exhale, slowly. "Let's go," I say to Emily and Aria, but Aria puts her hand on my arm.

"Wait."

I stop, understanding. I guess it makes sense, us waiting until Mona's gone before we leave ourselves. Who knows, that RV could be hidden anywhere around here, and we obviously can't trust her alone.

I focus my gaze on the ground, forcing back a sudden onset of tears. I can't believe, even though I really should by now, that my sister would fake us all out like this. I really believed that she had changed.

"What's going on?" Emily asks in alarm, breaking me out of my thoughts, and I look up. A few yards ahead of us, the brake lights of Mona's car are blinking on and off, erratically.

"Okay, that's weird," I say, blinking in surprise. This can't possibly be a trick, can it?

And then the driver's side door opens, and my sister falls right out onto the asphalt, coughing and gasping for breath. I can make out the shadow of another person, inside the car. "Oh my god, Mona!" I yelp, running over with Aria and Emily right behind me. "What the hell?"

I reach down, pulling her up by the arms as the other girls reach us. "Are you okay?" Emily asks in horror as Mona coughs again, rubbing at her throat.

In all of this alarm, it was easy to forget completely about the person in the car. But that was clearly a bad decision. One moment I am rubbing my sister's back, trying to help her get her breath back, and the next I am completely blinded by headlights. My mind is screaming at me to run, but my body is frozen, unable to focus on anything but the car suddenly barreling toward us.

"Watch out!" I hear Emily scream, and the next thing I know, my hip knocks into the hard ground, my hands thankfully shooting out instinctively to stop myself before my head hits a rock. Tires squeal against the asphalt. My heart feels like it's going to explode.

I roll over, breathing hard, and see that the three others are all beside me. It becomes quickly apparent that Emily is our savior, having pushed us all out of the way of the car, which is now growing tiny in the distance as it speeds away.

"Holy crap," I gasp, pressing one hand to my heart and rubbing my hip with the other. Thankfully, everything seems to be working correctly. I glance around, squinting in the dark. Mona and Aria sit up as well, seeming unharmed, but Emily is grimacing, rubbing her shoulder. "Are you okay, Emily?"

"My shoulder landed on a rock," she says with a groan, squeezing her eyes shut. "But I'm fine."

Aria watches her, obviously concerned, but grimaces and pushes herself to her feet. "Then let's get out of here. Now."

I roll over and scramble up, brushing dirt off of my clothes. I pull up the edge of my shirt, revealing a bruise on my ribs, but that, along with a few scrapes on my arms, seems to be the only thing wrong with me.

Thankful, I watch as Aria runs ahead toward the car, Emily following, her hand pressed tight against her shoulder. Mona gets up as well, glancing over at me. Guilt begins to ebb into my stomach, replacing the fear I felt just a few minutes ago, and I reach out, grabbing her hand. "I'm sorry," I blurt out, shaking my head. "I should have believed you. God, if you hadn't gotten that door open…" I trail off, unable to finish even the thought, let alone the sentence.

"We're on the same side, Viola," she says, releasing my hand and reaching up to touch the bruises that are beginning to form on her throat. "I didn't move the RV, and I'm not still working with 'A.' I don't know what else I can do to get you to believe me."

"I do believe you," I insist, realizing as I pull her into a hug that it's true. No one, not even my sister, is crazy enough to stage an attack like that. "And I'm sorry that it took you getting hurt to make me realize that." I pull away just as I hear Emily start up the engine. "Now come on, we have to get out of here."

Mona nods and grabs my hand, and we run toward the car together.

...

 **Again, review and let me know what you think! Next chapter, an old confrontation returns...along with a certain picture that can only lead to trouble.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Not quite sure what happened to everyone last chapter, especially since I got so much feedback on the one before. But big thanks to RHatch89, Fun With Typing, and lseth23 for reviewing! This is a big chapter where things start to heat back up, so let me know what you think. Five reviews for a quick update sounds fair, right? ;)**

Chapter 25

Justin is waiting in the front hall when I come downstairs, my purse slung over my arm and our latest novel for English, _To Kill a Mockingbird,_ in my hand. As soon as I spot him, I drop both to the floor and rush over. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I had only planned on hugging him, but before I even know what I'm doing, I reach up and kiss him right on the mouth. Then my brain catches up with my actions and I pull back. "Oh my god, I – "

"So much for taking things slow," he says with a grin. "Not that I mind."

I feel my face redden and turn away, slowly bending down to pick up my bag and book, which I tuck under my arm. "Sorry. I'm just…really grateful. I mean, you're driving, like, ten minutes out of your way."

He shrugs like this is no big deal. "Our school starts later than yours. And I can skip homeroom." I breathe a sigh of relief, finally getting my bearings, and he gives me a strange look. "Is your car broken down or something?"

I wince and avert my eyes, not sure how to answer this. Last night, Mona, along with Aria and myself, found her car dumped behind the high school. It worked properly and nothing appeared to be stolen, but she's been totally freaked out ever since, naturally, and insisted that she couldn't get in that car again this morning. And honestly, I didn't trust myself to drive, either, so I sent as vague a text as possible to Justin: _Would it be horrible of me to beg you for a ride to school tomorrow?_

He'd immediately sent back a "yes," without any questions, but I had doubted that he would actually be willing to drive all the way from Brookhaven just to drive us to school.

I can't believe he's really here.

But it seems like his line of questioning is only just beginning. "It's fine," I answer. I look up, hoping that this is good enough, but he wrinkles his brow at me, obviously confused. I think fast and continue, "Um, it's just that…my sister, she, uh…she almost got mugged last night. We're both a little freaked out." There. At least I could end on something true.

Justin's eyes go wide. "Whoa. Are you serious? Where was she?"

"I don't know," I blurt out too quickly. I resist the urge to clamp my mouth shut. I can feel my guilt growing. I told myself that I was done lying to Justin, that I wouldn't let secrets tear us apart again. But there's no way that he can know about this. I wouldn't even know where to begin. "I wasn't there. She's fine, but it…um, it happened right by her car, so…"

"Gotcha," he says, nodding, and my heart flutters with gratitude. I know right then that this is why I have to keep lying to him. There's no way I'll ever be able to find a better guy.

Mona rounds the corner, stopping when she notices Justin. I look carefully at her throat, glad to see that most of the bruises have been covered with makeup. "Oh. Hey," she says. "You're giving us a ride?"

"Yeah," he confirms, giving her a sympathetic look. "Viola told me about what happened last night. It's no problem."

She raises her eyebrows, looking at me over his shoulder. I make a face and nod enthusiastically in response, mouthing, _play along._ Fortunately, my sister is a very good liar. "That is so great of you," she gushes. "I don't think I'll be able to drive, like, ever again." I give a discreet thumbs-up, quickly rearranging my facial expression when Justin turns back to me.

"Well, we'd better get going, right?"

"Yes!" I practically shout, grabbing my purse. "Let's go." We call goodbye to our mother and follow Justin out to his car.

Mona lags a little behind, pulling me back. "Can you see the bruises?" she whispers, glancing ahead at Justin, who is oblivious.

"Not really," I say under my breath. "Maybe if I squint. But then I already know that they're there. Now come on, hurry up."

The ride to school is slightly awkward. Stopped at a red light, Justin clears his throat and glances in the rearview mirror. "So…what happened to you…that must have been pretty scary."

He is clearly trying to make conversation, but I leap in too quickly. "Yeah, like I told you," I say loudly and clearly, "she _was_ almost mugged."

"But you don't know who it was?" he asks, glancing back at my sister.

"No," she says smoothly, catching on. "They were wearing a mask."

I turn my head toward the window to hide a grin as we pull up in the parking lot. "Here we go," Justin announces, throwing the car into park. "And a whole three minutes before the bell. I think I'll even be on time for my school."

"Thank you," I say again, hopping out of the car and walking around to his window. "Seriously. You're awesome."

He rolls his eyes, smiling. "Like I said, it's not a big deal."

"No." I reach into the car, squeezing his arm. "It really is."

Smiling, he looks for a moment like he is about to lean out and kiss me. But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "See you later," and waves, pulling out of the lot.

I groan, fed up with myself, and hurry to catch up to my sister. "I think I'm losing my mind," I tell her, shaking my head.

Mona stops outside of her classroom, turning to me. "You really can't see anything?" she asks, gesturing to her neck.

I sigh and look closer. "No. Why? Does it hurt?"

"Just a little sore," she says, so I reach into my bag, handing her a container of aspirin.

"I have to go to my locker," I say, zipping my bag closed. "I'll see you at lunch. Text me if you need me." I wave and head off, twisting the combination on my locker and pulling the door open.

I'm halfway through gathering my things when I see it. Taped to the inside of my locker door is a white envelope. Curious, I set down my books and pull it off, turning it over in my hand. It's closed tight but unmarked, no name or anything.

I look around, up and down the hallway. No one is paying any attention to me, not even looking in my direction. I feel my stomach sink a little. How could someone have gotten into my locker without knowing my combination? The only person who is capable of something like that is…

"A."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I don't even know what this is about. Who knows, it might not even be anything bad.

I turn my back to the hallway and rip the envelope open, my heart thumping. I turn it over, shaking it, and a photograph falls into my hand. I hold it up and stare. It takes my brain a moment to understand what I'm seeing.

The blurry view. The strange angle, like someone stuck their phone or camera through a doorway. The man's hand on the girl's shoulder, their lips pressed together.

The word feels like it's tilting. I reach out, grabbing onto my open locker door as my heart plummets. It's the picture of Ian and me, the one that Mona showed me that night in the lair. The one she threatened to send out if I didn't join the team.

Suddenly shaking with anger, I rip the picture in half, and then again, until it's completely in shreds. I dump the little pieces back into the envelope and crush it in my hand. Somehow, I know that my sister didn't do this. When could she have? We've been together since last night.

It must have been Red Coat, then, I decide, suddenly feeling a panic attack coming on. Red Coat broke into my locker, sometime last night or this morning. She put that picture there, probably as a warning. Maybe this is my punishment. Instead of trying to kill me, she's going to finally reveal my secret.

I push back tears. The first bell rings, but I ignore it, rushing down the hallway and pushing into the bathroom. I lean against the sink, holding tight to the cold ceramic and trying to steady my breathing.

Something doesn't feel right about this. This doesn't seem like Red Coat's usual style. "A" doesn't do things like this without a warning, an accompanying text or message to really bring home the fear. It feels strange, getting a completely anonymous envelope without any sort of identification.

I hear one of the stalls swing open behind me, but I stare down at the sink, not caring to have a conversation. Then I hear a familiar, cold voice. "What's wrong, Viola? You look…freaked."

I whirl around. Macy is standing behind me, her arms crossed. Despite her concerned words, there is a smirk on her face. "Oh. Um, n-nothing," I stammer, willing my face to return to a normal color.

She raises her eyebrows, walking over to the sink beside me and fixing her hair. "Are you sure? Because you look weird. Almost like you got…caught?" There's something strange in her tone, an emotion that I'm having trouble identifying.

"I'm fine," I insist, putting my hands behind my back to hide the fact that they're shaking. "I just had, like, a panic attack or something."

She turns away from the mirror, her brow wrinkling in concern. Her blue eyes study me carefully. "Oh really?" She begins to smile, and I suddenly recognize the tone of her voice. Taunting. "It wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?" She reaches into her purse, pulling out a small, flimsy piece of paper.

"W-what?" I say in confusion, just as it dawns on me that what she's holding is not a piece of paper. It's a photograph. Though she's holding it out too far for me to make out the details, I don't need to. I see a flash of blue and my mind puts the pieces together. "You – you put that picture in my locker."

It's not a question, but she nods anyway, smirking. "Thanks again for letting me keep my stuff in your locker last year. Knowing your combination really helped."

The world feels like it's spinning too fast. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Nothing about this makes sense. I feel like I'm talking to a total stranger, not my ditzy, popularity-obsessed "best friend." "Oh my god. You…how did you get that picture?"

She turns away, pulling out a tube of lip gloss and touching up her makeup in the mirror, leaving me to stare in shock, unable to move, until she's finished. "Someone left a bunch of copies in my mailbox. I guess that whoever 'A' is wanted me to know just how much of a slut you really are."

Of course "A" was involved with this. I should have known – who else could have had that picture? – but I still feel dizzy with this new information. "Wait…you mean, 'A' left that for you?"

"Sean's party, right? Summer before freshman year?" Macy leans casually against the sink, still smiling. "And I thought we told each other everything. Some best friend you were, not even bothering to tell me about your little older boyfriend."

 _He wasn't my boyfriend!_ I want to scream, my head pounding with confusion and hurt. _He took advantage of me that night! He tried to rape me!_ But I can't get the words out. My throat feels like it's made of sandpaper.

I cough, stumbling back. I pray that no one else comes into the bathroom right now. "I can't believe you…who else have you shown that picture to?"

"No one. Yet."

I understand why "A" put the photos in her mailbox. But Macy's part in this is what I can't figure out. "Why? Why would you do this? What did I ever do to you?"

Her satisfied smile flips upside down, turning into a glare. "I know it was you who totally destroyed my room, Viola," she snaps angrily. "After what you said to me in school that day? It was obvious."

Oh. So much has happened since then, I'd almost forgotten about that night. For a second, I feel the urge to deny everything, to pretend like I have no idea what she's talking about. Maybe she'll believe me and rip those pictures to shreds.

But I think back to our conversation outside of the biology lab, and what I wrote on her mirror. It _is_ a little obvious that I was the one to vandalize her room. And judging by the look on Macy's face, even if I were to deny it, she wouldn't believe me.

I throw my arms out at my sides, my desperation growing. "I only did that to get back at you, for what you did to my sister!"

The nasty look drops off of her face. "What? What are you talking about?"

Once again, I get the feeling that something is not right here. "You…you left that cow brain in Mona's locker. On her first day back."

Macy shakes her head in confusion, pushing her hair out of her face. For the first time, I finally catch a glimpse of the girl I've known for years. "That wasn't me," she says slowly. "I never did anything to Mona."

My head is spinning once again. This does not make sense. "What? Of course you did. That same morning you were complaining about her being back. And right after it happened…I saw you. Coming out of the bio room."

Macy's brow furrows. She's clearly thinking, remembering this, the horrible picture still clutched in her hand. She shakes her head again. "That's not why I was in the lab," she insists, her voice going quiet.

Now it's she who looks a little intimidated, afraid even, as I fold my arms over my chest. "I don't believe you."

"Fine, you want the truth?" she bursts out. "Biology hasn't been any easier for me than chemistry. I'm not some genius like you are, okay? And since Lucas wasn't selling test answers anymore, I had to get them myself."

"Wait a minute," I interrupt, holding out my hands as the realization dawns on me. "You stole the answer key to our last test? From our teacher?"

"I was returning it when you saw me," she says, staring at the ground. "I had nothing to do with what happened to Mona."

I stare at her, thinking this over. It occurs to me that I actually believe her, despite what she just did to me. "I can't believe it," I mutter, shaking my head, guilt suddenly overtaking me. "I vandalized your room for no reason."

"I knew it was you," Macy explains, but the venom is gone from her voice. "So when this 'A' person gave me those pictures, I knew it was the perfect way to get back at you."

My heart speeds up again at the mention of those pictures. I meet her eyes. She no longer looks angry, and I know that Macy never holds grudges, but I'm still worried. "Macy, I swear," I beg. "I never would have done that to you if I hadn't been totally sure that you played that prank on my sister. I'm sorry. Really." I pause to let this sink in, then continue, "But you can't show anyone that picture. It'll ruin my life. _Please._ "

She frowns, looking down at it. "You broke practically half the things in my room. I had to get all new picture frames. I'm still picking up pieces of glass."

I twist my hands together nervously. It's over. She'll never forgive me, and even worse, she'll show that photo to everyone in school. I always figured it would be "A" that would somehow ruin my life. I never thought it would be my own friend.

We're both silent for a moment, me staring at Macy and her staring down at the picture. By this point, I might as well forget about even going to first period at all. Class is already halfway over.

Macy looks up at me after what feels like years, then back at the picture. She smiles, and I feel my heart drop. Then she turns, walking right into one of the stalls. Startled, I rush after her, not bothering to shut the door behind us.

I have absolutely no idea what she's going to do. She holds the photo out in front of her, smiling, and in one sudden movement, rips it right down the middle. I gasp, my jaw dropping in shock as I watch her drop both pieces into the toilet.

"Oh my god – " I begin, gratitude and relief flooding through me, replacing the fear, but she shakes her head and flushes, cutting me off.

"It's gone. I wouldn't do that to you."

...

 **Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter, Viola's life takes another turn when Mona turns herself in for Wilden's murder.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Thanks to nick2951, RHatch89, and Guest for the reviews. I feel like I've lost a lot of my old reviewers over the past few chapters, so I appreciate you guys sticking with me! This and the next chapter are a few of my favorites, so please let me know what you think. If I could get five reviews on this, that would be lovely!**

Chapter 26

It's just after seven in the evening, and I'm finishing up some outlining for biology when the phone rings. Groaning, I shove my notebook off of my lap and walk down the hallway to the upstairs phone. I figure it's either my father, calling to check in from Baltimore, or Mona, calling to tell me where the hell she's been for the last five hours.

I grab the cordless phone and glance down at the caller ID. ROSEWOOD PD flashes back at me, and my stomach does a flip. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. I can't help but think of Wilden, even though it seems like "A" has given up on trying to frame us for his murder. Hanna's mother was arrested a few days ago, even though she clearly didn't do it, either. But I guess it's a lot easier to frame someone for murder when you have footage of them running the victim down with a car.

I take a deep breath and answer shakily. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Vanderwaal," the deep voice on the other end says sternly, which does not calm my nerves.

I consider pretending to be my mother, just to get information, but balk at the last second. "Yeah – um, no, this is her daughter…Viola."

"Viola," the man repeats, like he's trying my name out. "I need to speak with one of your parents."

I pace nervously back and forth in the hallway, glancing downstairs to check if my mother is home yet. She went to see a show in Philly with a few of her friends, and isn't due back for another hour or so. "They're not home," I tell him. "What's going on?"

There is a very long pause, in which I can hear muffled voices muttering in the background. I am just about to repeat myself when the officer clears his throat. "It would really be better if you could put me in contact with one of your parents."

I am aware that this is probably protocol, but I am still irritated at not immediately getting the information that I want. "My father is in a different state, and my mother's at a show. Her phone won't be on for another hour," I explain. "Will you please just tell me what's happening?"

Another eternity-long hesitation occurs before he says, with clear reserve, "Mona Vanderwaal is your sister?"

I feel my nervous stomach sink. "Yes. Why?"

This time, there is no pause, but it still seems to take him forever to get the words out. "We have her down at the station…she just confessed to the murder of Detective Wilden."

Without even realizing it, I release the phone. It drops from my hand and thumps to the floor. I hear the man's voice, muffled against the carpet and sounding alarmed. "Hello?"

My mind snapping back to the present, I snatch it up and say quickly, "Sorry. Yeah. I'll be there in five minutes." Before he can respond, I end the call and drop the phone once again, taking the stairs so quickly that I nearly slip and fall headfirst right down them.

My adrenaline is so high that I am barely even aware of my emotions as I grab my purse and keys, pull on the first pair of shoes that I see, and bolt to my car, all in less than a minute. It's dark, but I don't even remember to turn on my headlights as I back out of the driveway and speed down the street.

It's only when I'm turning onto Main Street, the police station coming into view, that I recognize just how angry I am. No. Not angry. _Furious._

I know that Mona didn't kill Wilden, and I'm sure it won't take the police very long to figure that out, too, good liar or not. Why would she risk being thrown back in Radley, or worse, _prison?_ What would be the gain?

A terrible thought occurs to me as I pull into a parking space in the police station's lot, so fast that I nearly slam into the concrete block in front of it. What if this is all another plan? What if "A" forced my sister to take the fall for Wilden's murder…after all, it seems more likely that they would want her in jail instead of Hanna's mother, of all people.

I slam the door of my car and stomp inside, not bothering to lock it. We're outside of a police station, for God's sake. I think it'll be okay. I enter through a side door and rush down the hallway, thankfully unnoticed.

A small room is only a few feet ahead of me, and I can see through the large window that it's empty. Only a chair and table sit inside, and I realize all at once that it must be the interrogation room. And it seems I've arrived at just the right time, as before I can even catch my breath, a door between the small room and myself opens. A police officer comes out, followed by my sister.

I freeze. I want to call out, but my mouth won't move, and anyway, I don't even know what to say. Just as the officer opens the door leading to the interrogation room, I am distracted by the sound of footsteps pounding toward me.

I glance back, spotting Hanna, Spencer, Emily, and Aria rushing up to me, with Mrs. Hastings close behind. I wonder briefly why Spencer's mother is here, then realize that she's Mrs. Marin's lawyer. Of course she was probably the first one to get the call, before even me.

The girls converge upon me, Hanna grabbing onto my arm and giving me a questioning look. I shake my head and shrug helplessly, turning back and staring as Mona sits down in the interrogation room. For a moment, her eyes meet mine, but then she looks past me, right at Hanna. She smirks just as the officer pulls the blind covering the window, blocking off our view.

The sound of the blind slapping against the bottom of the window somehow snaps me out of my daze. The room seems to be spinning, but I'm pretty sure that's just me. Now it's my turn to grab Hanna's arm, my nails digging into her skin. "Oh my god, oh my god." I turn to her, barely able to breathe. "What the heck? Why was she looking at you like that?"

Hanna glances over her shoulder, making sure that Mrs. Hastings is not in the vicinity. "I don't understand," she whispers, addressing us all as the other girls crowd in closer. "I told Mona that I was going to confess to killing Wilden. She spent all day helping me get my story straight."

"More like _her_ story," Spencer corrects her, shooting another concerned look at the closed-off room. "This must have been her plan all along."

For once, I am actually in the loop, but I am so close to the verge of hysteria that I barely understand what they're talking about. "Oh my god," I say again, pressing my hand over my eyes. "My mom's not getting home for another hour, I can't believe this."

"Hey, calm down." Aria moves to stand next to me, wrapping her hand around my arm. It's only then that I realize how badly I'm shaking. "There's gotta be more to this. I mean, why would Mona just walk in and confess to a murder?"

Still shivering, I wrap my arms around myself and say quietly, "A murder that she didn't even commit." Emily gives me a doubtful look, so I feel obliged to explain. But the middle of the police station doesn't seem like the best place for this conversation. "Come on," I hiss, pushing out the door and back into the parking lot, the others following close behind.

"And why are you so sure about that?" Emily asks once we're safely out of earshot of any cops.

I'm frustrated, but too tired to even roll my eyes. "Are you guys forgetting that I was on the 'A' team up until Wilden's body was found? If Mona had killed him, it would have been on an order from 'A,' and I would have known about it." I'm only about eighty percent sure of that – there were obviously a lot of "A" plans that I knew nothing about, even near the end of my time on the team – but I feel oddly certain of this.

Hanna groans, crossing her arms. "Then why else would she do something that's only going to get her thrown back in Radley?"

We're all quiet for a moment, the only sound around us the buzzing from the air conditioner unit against the wall. This is one thing that I can't think of a good answer to.

But thankfully we have Spencer. She raises her eyes, looking at each of us individually and saying quietly, "Maybe she wants to get thrown back into Radley."

...

 **Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter, Viola finds out the real reason behind Mona's confession.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you to Pinkpoodle8, Guest, nick2951, RHatch89, Fun With Typing, and Mr Tea the dino for reviewing! I'm glad to know that you all are just as busy and stressed out as I am, haha! And I can't believe that I'm so close to 100 reviews...that is so incredible. Think we can get there this chapter? Please let me know what you think regardless - this is one of my favorites.**

Chapter 27

I'm in my room, trying to read a novel for Spanish class, when I hear the front door open and slam closed. Usually this wouldn't concern me or even draw my attention. But the novel is written completely _in_ Spanish, and I only understand about half of it, so I'm glad for the distraction. I hop up and push my bedroom door open, returning to my bed just as footsteps echo up the stairs.

"You have twenty minutes," a gruff male voice that is definitely not my father speaks. "Only pack the essentials."

I sit up, leaning closer to the door to hear, but my ears don't really perk up until I hear my sister's voice. "I know."

She's back? I scramble off of my bed and peek out into the hallway, trying to appear casual. "Hey," I say. "What's going on?"

A man who appears to be an officer, though he is wearing a polo shirt and slacks instead of a uniform, is standing in the hallway. He turns to look in my direction, and the hem of his shirt shifts a little. I catch sight of the gun strapped to his belt and quickly look away.

Mona stops in the doorway to her room. "I have to pack," she says, shooting a look over at the officer. "He's taking me to Radley."

My heart stops for a moment, my blood running cold. Of course, I should have seen this coming, considering she just confessed to a murder and all. But I guess I just assumed that they wouldn't believe her.

I clearly need to stop underestimating my sister's lying skills.

"O-oh," I stammer out after an awkward amount of time. "Um." I pause, wanting to say more, but not in front of the possible police officer. "Why don't I help you pack?"

"Good idea," the man says sharply, cutting in. "We need to get moving."

I smile at him. "I'm sure this won't take long." Then I turn and follow Mona into her room, keeping the smile on my face until I shut the door behind me, spinning around. "Have you lost your mind?"

She leans down, pulling a suitcase out from under her bed. "You shouldn't worry about things you don't understand," she says flatly, unzipping the suitcase and beginning to remove clothes from her dresser.

I fold my arms, my eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "What I _understand_ is that you just confessed to a murder that you didn't commit." I feel my anger growing, and before I know it, I can't stop talking. "How do you think that felt? I'm home alone, Mom's out, and I get a phone call _from the police._ They tell me that you just walked in, that you're confessing to Wilden's freaking _murder._ Do you have any idea how our parents felt? How _I_ felt?"

I have to stop, feeling my throat constrict as a sudden rush of tears strains behind my eyes. I close my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and forcing them back. I will not cry.

Mona looks up at me, and I see guilt flash across her face. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, not meeting my eyes. "I didn't do this to hurt you. Or Mom."

This is not a good enough answer for me. I cross the room, grabbing a shirt out of her hand and setting it down hard. "Then why did you do it? What could possibly have been the goal of doing something so _stupid?_ "

"They don't trust me," she blurts out after a moment of silence, smacking the suitcase closed. "Not even Hanna."

I'm having trouble following this logic. "What? Yeah, they don't trust me either, but that doesn't mean that I've _lost my mind._ "

Mona sighs and rolls her eyes, brushing her hair out of her face. "I did this to get them to trust me," she says slowly, like I'm a child who doesn't understand a simple math problem. "So they'll see we're on the same side."

In that moment, all of my anger completely dissipates into something that I never in a million years thought that I'd feel for my sister…pity. My head spinning, I sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling my brow wrinkle. "Getting those girls to accept you really means that much to you?"

"It's not about acceptance," she snaps a little too quickly, abandoning packing altogether and joining me on the edge of the bed. "They think I'm still involved with 'A.' That we both are. I need to get them to understand that we're not who they should be afraid of."

As I listen to this, the pieces begin to come together. I feel the rest of my anger begin to subside, though the ebbing worry in my stomach is growing larger. "So you thought that this was, like, the ultimate way to show your loyalty. Admit to a crime you didn't commit so Hanna's mom can go free."

"If this won't gain their trust," Mona confirms, fiddling nervously with her hands and staring down at the ground, "then nothing will."

I suddenly feel like I'm about to explode. I stand up and begin to pace back and forth across the room, just for something to do. "I can't believe this," I say, a sharp laugh escaping out of me. "I can't believe you're actually going to be put back in Radley over this."

She walks back over to the dresser and takes out another piece of clothing, folding it carefully before turning back to me and smiling. Actually _smiling._ And despite the pity that I feel for her, despite my new understanding of what is going on, I've never felt farther from her. "There are worse places to be," she says cryptically, smoothing out the clothes in the suitcase.

"Wait," I blurt out, feeling a sudden chill at the thought that occurs to me. I rub my arms, where goose bumps have suddenly appeared. "You _want_ to go back to Radley?"

"There are answers there," my sister says insistently, shooting a concerned look over at the closed door. I wonder suddenly how thick it is, if that officer has been listening this whole time. Mona seems to have a similar idea, because she lowers her voice considerably. "Everything goes back to Radley."

"I just don't think this is a good idea," I mutter, shaking my head. "There are other ways to get into that place without being a patient. You were sneaking in and out of there for months last summer, why couldn't you have just snuck in again?"

She pulls out her phone, checking the time. "I want to blend in. I don't want to have to sneak around. And anyway, it's only a psychiatric hold. Seventy-two hours."

"Yeah," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes in disbelief. "Until they believe your lies once again and decide that you really _did_ kill Wilden."

My eyes meet hers for a moment, and I see an edge of fear there, that I'm sure mirrors my own. I can't believe my sister is actually willing to go to such lengths for something like this…even if it might mean getting more answers about "A" and Red Coat.

But I have to admit, I can't help but admire her for it, a little. I would never have the guts to pull off something like this. I would have broken down in front of the police during the first minute of my confession.

I open my mouth to say just that, when there is a sharp knock on the door. "What's taking so long?" the harsh voice of the officer breaks the silence, muffled through the wood. "We need to get going, before registration hours are over."

"Just a minute," Mona calls out to him. "I need to make a quick phone call." I smile in relief, glad for the cover story, until she actually pulls out her cell phone.

"Wait, you're actually calling someone?"  
"I need to talk to Hanna," she says. "You should go."  
I make a face but shrug, heading toward the door. "Fine."

"Wait, Viola." Hurriedly, she grabs a notepad on the desk and scribbles a phone number on it, ripping it off and handing it to me. "Tomorrow morning, you need to call this number. Arrange for a meeting."

My heart sinks. I take the note and crumple it in my hand. "Are you serious? What the heck are you talking about?" I can feel my heart rate begin to speed up – is this some kind of "A" plan? I really thought we were done with that, for good.

"It's nothing bad," Mona assures me, once again reading my mind. "Just trust me. Call her, tell her you're my sister. That's all you need to know."  
I really don't like the sound of this. "Why can't you tell me what's going on?" I demand, feeling heat rise to my face, something that tends to happen when I'm seriously annoyed. "If it's that important?"

"You'll find out tomorrow. If I tell you now, you won't agree to help. But I swear, you won't get hurt."  
I stare hard at her for a long moment, trying to read her expression. She looks genuine enough, almost pleading, but I know better than to trust my own instinct after everything I've been through.

"Fine," I say finally, heaving a sigh. "I'll do it…but you need to swear to me that this isn't anything bad. Or anything related to 'A.'"

"I already – "

"No," I interrupt, walking over to her desk and pulling open the top drawer. Inside is an old, small sewing kit that I only knew would be there from memory. Carefully, I open it and extract a thin, silver needle. "I mean you need to _swear_ to me."

Before I can think too hard about this, I hold my breath and press the tip of the needle into the pad of my index finger. I wince at the sharp pain, extracting the tiny spike only when a dot of blood appears.

Calmly, I wipe the needle on the hem of my shirt, which is conveniently already red, and hand it to my sister. Without even a hesitation, she pricks her own finger and barely even flinches.

Then we press our fingers together, and I'm instantly taken back to when I was six years old, when we started this stupid tradition, back when we only resorted to this ritual over things like a missing hair brush or the broken lamp in the living room.

Just another way that "A" has completely changed every semblance of normality in my life.

I pull my hand away and wipe off the blood. "Okay," I say, unable to keep from smiling. "Tradition is tradition. I believe you."

Mona smiles back at me, picking up her phone. "I'll be back in a couple days," she says, beginning to type in Hanna's number. "It'll be like I'm not even gone."

I roll my eyes, reaching out to grab the doorknob with my not-stinging hand. "Oh, please," I say as I ease open the door. "You're never really gone."

...

 **They have a wonderfully messed-up relationship, don't they? Next chapter, Viola makes a mysterious phone call and tries to piece together just what she is supposed to do.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Got my fourth review today so here's an update! Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, and Fun With Typing for reviewing, and a special shoutout to Mr Tea The Dino for being my 100th reviewer! I can't believe that this story has reached that many reviews and I really appreciate it...keep up the feedback, I love hearing what you guys have to say!**

Chapter 28

When I wake up the next morning, the pinprick on my finger still hurts. But I barely notice the stinging over the awful pounding in my head.

I groan, sitting up and falling right back onto the pillow again, only to stop my head from feeling like an arrow has just been shot through it. The pain is coming from my temples, but my forehead feels like it's burning.

Quietly, I brace myself and slip out of bed, swallowing hard, only to find that my throat hurts just as badly as my head. I trudge listlessly into the bathroom and shove the thermometer under my tongue.

Twenty seconds later, my fear has been confirmed.

102.3.

I'm sick.

I try to groan, but it only increases the ache in my throat. If ever there was a worse time to be sick, I can't think of one. Thankfully today is Sunday…but I don't have a day off.

The last thing I feel like doing is carrying out Mona's vague and somewhat frightening order. But I promised I would help, just like she promised that I wouldn't get hurt. I can't back out.

So I spend the next hour getting ready, careful to do my hair and makeup just like I would on any other day. What usually takes me twenty minutes ends up taking most of the morning, but aside from darker circles under my eyes and a slightly paler complexion than usual, I look totally normal.

But that doesn't improve how I feel. I sit down on the edge of my bed, my phone in one hand and the number I'm supposed to call in the other. After five glasses of water and more cough drops than I can count, my throat no longer feels like it's going to burst into flames, but there's no getting around the fact that I sound sick.

It takes me a few minutes to build up the courage to enter the number into my phone, and a few more to actually press "call."

"Hello?" a smooth female voice answers.

I clear my throat and try to sound as healthy as possible as I reply. "Um, hi." I pause, realizing with a pang of terror that I have no idea what to say next. I was too distracted by whatever flu I have this morning to plan out how to handle this conversation.

I panic for a few moments too long, and the girl speaks again, sounding irritated. " _Hello?_ Who is this?"

"Um," I say again, just to fill the silence. Then I finally compose myself, and try to speak clearly through my aching throat. "Hi. Yeah. My name is Viola…I'm Mona's sister."

There is a long pause. I can tell that she's still there, whoever this is, but a good few moments pass before she finally replies. "Yeah, I don't think so."

I raise my eyebrows, pressing the phone harder to my ear. What's that supposed to mean, she "doesn't think so"? Even more desperate for an explanation, I let out an exasperated breath and say, "Seriously. I'm Viola Vanderwaal. I'm in the high school directory and everything." I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling that this girl goes to my school. Maybe it's the sound of her voice or something, but there's something familiar here that I can't quite put my finger on.

There is another hesitation, and when the girl speaks again, she sounds a little more uncertain. "Mona didn't say anything about a sister. I thought she'd be contacting me herself."

I know that I somehow need to offer an explanation for this, but I'm not sure how much this girl knows. I don't really want to involve another person in this mess, so I try and phrase my answer as vaguely as possible. "She's…unavailable right now. She gave me your number and told me to call you, that we need to have some sort of meeting."

"Yeah," the girl says slowly, and the familiarity is really itching at me now. I'm dying to ask what her name is, but somehow I know that even if I did, she wouldn't tell me. Not over the phone. Whatever deal is going on here, it's obviously pretty secretive.

"So…" I cut in when she doesn't elaborate. "The meeting?"  
"Meet me at the Apple Rose Grille. In an hour." She pauses, then adds, "And make sure you bring the money."

My heart jumps into my throat, and I feel a new wave of headache coming on. "What – "

The line clicks and goes dead. I groan and drop the phone onto my bed, fighting down the urge to throw up, and not just from whatever sickness I have. Money? I didn't know anything about money, and I have no idea how much to bring.

For a moment, I stare helplessly down at my phone, wondering if I should call that number again and demand some more information, though I doubt she'd tell me more without meeting me in person and making sure I'm legit.

But I know my sister. She had to have known that money was going to be involved, and she _always_ has a plan.

Hoping I'm right, I walk slowly down the hallway, trying my best not to make any sound. It's after ten, and I know that I can only get away with about another half an hour without my mother coming up to check on me. I need to do this quickly.

I slip into Mona's room and look around, for any sort of note or, I don't know, stack of cash, maybe? But after scanning the surfaces of the room, it becomes apparent that it's not going to be that easy.

I search through the dresser drawers, most of which are halfway empty, and then tackle the desk, starting with the bottom drawer. It's still filled with notebooks and papers, but when I lift them up, there's no old BlackBerry this time.

I smile to myself, as if this is some sort of real confirmation that Mona is really no longer working with "A." I realize that this is ridiculous and drop the stack of notebooks back inside, opening the next drawer up.

By the time I've gotten to the top, I'm almost at the end of my rope. This is absurd. Why am I even spending my time with this, when I should be in bed, with my mom bringing me soup or something? I decide right then and there that if I don't find anything in the last drawer, I'm giving up, promise or no promise.

I pull open the drawer and begin shifting around, through pencils, pens, little cups filled with paper clips, and other odds and ends, like the little sewing kit from yesterday.

Wait.

Yesterday the case containing the sewing materials was clear. But now, it's obvious that something white has been stuffed inside. Curious, I open the kit and pull out the paper, which turns out to be a folded up envelope. Bingo.

Feeling triumphant, but a little disappointed as well, because part of me was hoping that I really would have an excuse to give up, I smooth out the envelope. There is a short note written in neat handwriting on the front.

 _Thanks, Vi. –M_

I open the flap and feel my dizziness increase at what I see. By "money," I assumed that the girl on the phone had meant a few twenties, maybe a few fifties. But there must be at least several thousand dollars crammed in here, judging by the thick layer of bills that all look to be hundreds.

Gaping, I close the envelope quickly, careful not to twist it or bend it any more than it already has been. The larger part of me wants to shove the money back into the hiding place and pretend that I never even thought to look there. I've been so happy to stay out of the drama for the past few weeks, and this has "A" written all over it. Shouldn't I be chomping at the bit to remove myself from this mess?

But that strange phone call…and all that money…there must be something behind this. Something important. And I know that even if I try and forget about it, my curiosity is eventually going to win out.

Fighting it isn't going to help.

So I walk back to my room, shove the envelope into my wallet, and head downstairs, pulling on a jacket. "Hey, Mom," I say as cheerfully as possible, forcing back a cough.

"Morning, honey," my mother says tiredly, not looking up from the newspaper she's reading. I notice the dark circles under her eyes that rival my own. But that's no big surprise – her oldest daughter just confessed to a murder and was taken back to a mental institution. I probably wouldn't be sleeping, either.

"You slept in late today," she goes on, finally glancing up. Her eyes widen. "Are you okay, Viola?"

I think back to the thick layer of foundation that I put on an hour ago and wonder just how sick I really am. "I'm fine," I say lightly, taking the carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring myself a glass. "I just, um, didn't sleep too well last night, you know?"

My mother casts her eyes downward, nodding. "I didn't either, sweetie. It's so hard, I know, especially with your father being away again. Do you think…do you think talking to someone might help?"

I am so caught off guard that for a moment, even my pounding headache goes away. "What? You – you mean, like, a therapist? _No._ Not at all."

She frowns contemplatively, setting down her mug of coffee. "I was just thinking, with everything you've been through…especially with Mona back in school now…"

I shake my head, hard, and instantly regret it. "It's fine, Mom. But I get it. Let's just see what happens once her psych hold is over, okay?"

My mother pales a little at the word "psych," and I decide that it's time I make my exit. "I have to go," I say, gulping down the last of my juice and grabbing my car keys off of the counter. "I'm…I'm meeting Justin, over in Brookhaven."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Viola? You really don't look well."

Sometimes I wish my mother would stop being such a… _mother._ It gets a little inconvenient, having a parent who cares. I force a smile and slip on my sunglasses, mostly to hide my red-rimmed eyes. "I'm fine, really. It's only, like, a ten minute drive. I'll be back in at least two hours."

 _Unless whoever I'm meeting kills me first._

I shake that grim thought from my head and give my mom one last reassuring smile before I head out, climbing into my car and pulling out in the direction of the Apple Rose Grille.

I can't help but wonder if I'm making a big mistake.

...

 **Let me know what you think! Next chapter, Viola finally meets the mysterious caller. Let me know in the reviews who you think it's going to be.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A huge thank you for all of the feedback I received on the last chapter! Thanks to RHatch89, Fun With Typing, karma3825, nick2951, and Mr Tea The Dino for reviewing. I would have liked to get this up yesterday but I wanted to make sure that I had time to read it over first. As always, let me know what you think!**

Chapter 29

As I'm walking into the Grille, it strikes me as really stupid that I have no idea who I'm meeting, or even what she looks like. How am I supposed to know who to go and sit by, or who to greet when they walk through the door?

Although I do have somewhat of a resemblance to my sister, so maybe I won't be the one doing the introducing.

As I'm waiting by the hostess stand, I glance around what I can see of the restaurant, looking for any girl or young woman sitting alone. Possibly in a red trench coat. But as far as I can tell, the place is mostly filled with couples and bigger groups of people out for an early lunch or late brunch.

"Hi," I tell the hostess, before she can even speak. "Table for one…two, I mean. Table for two. But the other person isn't here yet."

The woman stares at me for a moment, obviously caught off guard by my ramblings, along with the fact that I probably look as sick as I feel. But she nods, grabs two menus, and leads me over to a booth in the corner of the restaurant.

I sit and immediately order a ginger-ale – my stomach is in knots, and I can't tell if it's from the flu or because I'm so nervous. I tap my foot against the chair leg for what seems like forever, staring down at the table and sipping my drink, before I feel a shadow pass over me.

I close my eyes for a moment, not even sure I want to know who this is. Am I about to come face to face with "A"? I highly doubt it. But even so, I take a moment to brace myself before I raise my eyes.

A girl with cocoa-colored skin, around my age, stands beside the booth. She has dark, straight hair down her shoulders, and her hands are planted on her hips. Like her voice, there is something about the girl's appearance that is definitely familiar, but I don't know why until she sits down and says, "Hey. You're Viola?"

"Yeah," I reply, nodding slightly. "So are you ever going to tell me your name?"  
"I would've, if you'd given me the chance," she says with a smirk, and I raise my eyebrows, sensing something strange in her tone. Is this girl _flirting_ with me? "I'm Shana," she says, actually holding out her hand for me to shake. _Shana._ That's right. She's on the swim team. I've probably seen her hanging around Emily.

I reach out to grasp her hand, but pull back at the last minute. "Um, actually, I'm kind of – " I begin, but my voice cracks and a fit of coughing cuts me off.

That seems to get the message across, though, because she retracts her hand and smiles slightly. "Oh. Got it." The same waitress who brought me the ginger-ale walks up, and Shana orders a coke, only speaking again once she's out of earshot. "Did you bring it?"

"The money?" I clarify, pulling the envelope out of my wallet but keeping it firmly grasped in my hand. "Yeah, I guess. This is what my sister left for me. Now can you please tell me what's going on?"

Shana shrugs nonchalantly, and I feel my nerves subside slightly. If this was anything bad or, say, illegal, she wouldn't be so calm, would she? "It's for a car," she tells me, her voice low.

I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but it was not this. "A car?" I repeat, dropping the envelope onto the table in surprise. I casually slide it toward myself, out of her reach. This girl doesn't seem very threatening, but I'm not sure I trust her with this kind of money. And I _have_ seen her hanging around Jenna at school.

I don't have much to do with Jenna, but apparently she knows something she shouldn't, because for the past few months "A" has tried relentlessly to kill her, with no success. So I've always been a little jittery around the no-longer-blind girl, even though I've never been able to figure out what she's up to.

Shana nods in response to my question, but doesn't elaborate, so I do. "What do you mean, a car? Can I have some more details, please?"

"It's Jenna's car," she tells me, after glancing around, presumably to make sure that no one recognizable is nearby. Finally, we're getting into the real secrecy here. "The blue Ford Mustang?"

I know exactly what she's talking about – I know that car. I followed that car, once. Well, actually, I followed Hanna and Aria, who were following Jenna, but still.

I know the car.

But that doesn't mean I'm any less perplexed. Feeling my brow furrow, I take another sip of ginger-ale and ask, "What? Why would Mona want Jenna's old car?"  
Shana shrugs again, glancing down at the envelope of money, still under my hand. "All I know is that she offered to pay Jenna some big money for it. I'm just the middle man. Sorry."

I frown at her for a moment, contemplating this. From what I've seen, Jenna and Shana's relationship goes beyond friendship – which is strange, considering Jenna used to be the most boy-crazy girl in school. I'm not so sure that I can trust that Shana is completely in the dark about this.

I start to speak and then hesitate. I probably shouldn't say anything about "A," even if I'm no longer on the team. Maybe, even if Shana does know the real reason behind this sale, it has nothing to do with the mysterious tormentor in the red coat. I don't think it's a good idea to bring up something that could only get me in more trouble.

"I think you know more than you're telling me," I settle on, leaning forward and folding my arms on the table.

"I don't," Shana insists. "And I don't think that Jenna does, either. Mona offered her a lot of money for this car. Why would she say no?"

I grimace, frustrated, and press my hand to my aching head. On any other day, I would fight harder about this, refuse to leave until I got a better explanation. But I can barely think through the thick fog in my brain. I'm too sick to deal with this. All I want to do is go home and pretend that my life is someone else's.

Shaking my head, I sigh and move on to the next problem with this situation. "Okay, so what? You expect me to just give you the money and you'll hand over the car? I drove here. How am I supposed to get it home? And what am I supposed to tell my mother?"

"You don't have to do anything but hand over the money," Shana says quietly, her voice practically a whisper. "You should only have half. I'm supposed to meet Mona in a few days. She'll give me the rest of the cash and I'll give her the car. Unless," she adds, raising an eyebrow, "you'll be doing that, too?"

I let out a laugh before I can stop myself. "Yeah, no. I'm definitely not getting any more involved in this than I already am. She'll be…back in a few days. I'm sure she'll call you then."

"Fine." Shana finishes her coke and pushes the empty glass aside. "So the money?"

I slip the envelope out from under my hand and stare down at it. Giving a random girl an envelope that contains at least a thousand dollars seems like a really bad idea. Maybe I should forget this and stay out of it, keep the money safe until my sister gets back from Radley. She can worry about her own problems.

I mull this over in my head for a moment, ignoring Shana's growing impatience. And I finally realize something: I don't care. I don't care if Mona ends up getting cheated out of all this money. I don't care if this whole car thing is some elaborate plot.

I don't care.

And the easiest way to stop caring is to end your own involvement. So I slide the envelope across the table with a smirk. "Here's your money. Go ahead and count it if you want."

I don't actually expect her to, but she does, pulling the wad of bills out and sorting through them, her lips moving silently. Then she slips them back into the envelope and smiles. "Twelve hundred. All here. I'll take this to Jenna now."

"Whatever," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Maybe you can use some of that money to pay for these drinks?"

Shana gives me a strange smile. "I'm not sure this place will accept a hundred dollar bill for two drinks," she says, and I get the odd feeling that, once again, she is trying to flirt with me.

The thought of this makes me uncomfortable enough that I stand up abruptly, taking a moment to get over the sudden dizziness. I cough into my hand and slip my sunglasses back over my eyes. "Guess you'd better figure it out, then. My sister will be in touch. Good luck with the car."

...

 **Next up, Viola's life takes another turn when Mona vanishes, and the girls enlist her to help them figure out some cryptic clues from "A."**


	30. Chapter 30

**Can't believe I'm already at chapter thirty...and there's still a long way to go. Thanks to Fun With Typing, RHatch89, karma3825, nick2951, and Mr Tea The Dino for reviewing - I appreciate it! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, which is a lead-in to the next one...which is HUGE.**

Chapter 30

"I seriously can't believe you've never seen this movie."

"What can I say? Black and white movies have never really been my thing." Justin glances over his shoulder at me from his place on the couch.

I raise my eyebrows, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from the counter and walking over to join him. "Really? Old movies are, like, all anyone watches around here."

He laughs, grabbing a handful of popcorn and leaning back on the couch. "In Brookhaven, it's more reality shows and cartoons."

I shudder, picking up the remote and switching the TV to the correct channel just as the opening credits for the movie begin. "Still. 'Strangers on a Train' is a classic. You have to see it at least once."

I cross my legs and lean back, aware of his arm draped across the back of the couch. After we kissed in my house last week – was that seriously only a little over a week ago? – I haven't really been sure of our relationship. The tension between us, however, is undeniable. It's like we want to be dating, but we're not sure if it's the best idea.

Or, at least that's how I feel.

I sigh and pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth, forcing myself to calm down and just go with it. Right now, Justin is the only normal part of my life, and I want to keep it that way. Forcing a relationship before we're ready for that again would just make things awkward, and my life is awkward enough.

"Think they'll ever recreate these types of movies?" he asks only five minutes in, obviously not very interested yet. "You know, add color?"

I groan, grabbing a pillow from the corner of the couch and dropping my head down into it. "Oh my god, I hope not." I raise my head and brush my hair out of my face. "You obviously don't understand the artistic genius behind black and white movies."

"Obviously not," Justin agrees, his mouth full of popcorn. "And I hope I never will."

I smirk and shush him, turning up the sound. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I can tell that Justin is just starting to get involved in the movie when he glances down and pokes me. "Hey. I think your phone just went off."

"Huh?" I reach forward, plucking it off of the table, and see that he's right. A new text has just come in. Figuring it's my mother, checking to make sure I'm not up to something inappropriate, I open it. It's from Spencer, and as soon as I read the message I feel my blood run cold.

 _SOS. You need to get over here. Now._

I stop breathing for a moment, and apparently have a funny look on my face, because Justin pauses the movie and leans toward me. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"What?" Surprised, I fumble with the phone, dropping it into my lap. "Oh. Um. Nothing."

He shrugs, giving me another strange look, then continues the movie, his eyes moving back to the screen. I take another look down at the message, my nerves increasing. I need to get out of here. Somehow, I need to make something up.

"Actually," I blurt out, getting Justin's attention. "I'm, um, I'm really not feeling so great. Think we could finish this another night?"

This time, he actually turns the television off, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you do look a little pale. What's going on?"

"Just an upset stomach," I say, and it's not necessarily a lie. I _do_ feel a little sick. "I'm think I'm just still getting over the flu from a few days ago."

"Hey, yeah." He stands, getting his jacket from where he draped it over the back of the couch and pulling it on. "You should rest. Why don't you text me when you're feeling better, in a couple days or so? We can do this again."

"Great," I breathe, relieved that he's not any more suspicious. That's the best thing about having a friend – boyfriend? – who's not from around here. He doesn't know many of the grim details of my life. "That sounds great."

"Alright," he says with a smile, heading for the door. I follow him, and for a moment we stand together silently. He leans in a bit, and so do I, and then it's like, at the same time, we both realize what's going on and pull away.

"Uh – "

"I'm – "

I let out an awkward laugh, half hoping that he'll lean in again. But instead, he reaches out and hugs me, then grabs the doorknob. "I'll see you around," he mumbles. "Feel better." And he's gone.

I groan, leaning against the closed door and allowing myself only a moment of reflection. But I don't have time to worry about my stupid love life. I check my phone for any more updates, send Spencer a text that I'm on my way, and head out to my car.

Five minutes later I pull up in front of the Hastings house. The front door opens before I even make it onto the porch, and the four girls usher me inside. "Whoa," I say, alarmed by the expressions on their faces. "What's going on, you guys?"

This must be bad. Or a trick, something cooked up by "A." There's no way that these girls would actually be trusting me, involving me in one of their plans, unless they felt they had to. It's been obvious ever since that night at the police station that they still don't consider me to be completely on their side.

"Viola," Spencer says instead of "hello," pulling me into the entryway and positioning herself so that I can't see into the living room. "Do you know where Mona is right now?"

Something about her tone, along with the half worried, half horrified expressions on all of their faces, makes me think that I can't possibly have the right answer. "No," I say in alarm. "Still in Radley, I thought, but – "

"She's not," Emily interrupts, shaking her head. "We just called. She's been out since yesterday."

My head is spinning, and I'm glad that whatever flu I had a few days ago has mostly gone away. I don't think I'd be able to deal with this if I was still sick. "What? No one told me that. My parents are out of town." I pause, fighting down the urge to be sick, and wrap my arms around myself. "What do you guys know?"

"We know that 'A' has something to do with this," Hanna says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into Spencer's living room. "This came yesterday. We've been trying to figure it out, but we thought you should know."

I follow the other girls into the room, and immediately catch sight of what they must be talking about. A white, child-sized casket is open on the coffee table. And inside is a doll that bears a striking resemblance to my sister.

"Oh my god." I sit down hard on the couch, unable to tear my eyes away. "You think that 'A' did something to Mona?"

"No," Spencer says, pulling out her phone and opening a text message. "But we think that they might. 'A' sent us this text right after we opened the box."

She holds her phone out for me to read, but I can barely make out the words as black dots appear in my vision.

 _Hanna won, so Mona loses. Find her before the cops or they'll think you killed her. –A_

I am nearly certain that I'm going to pass out. "Oh my god," I say again, unable to think of anything else that sums up the horror that I'm feeling. "I can't believe you guys are just telling me this now." Before any of them can respond, I sit up straighter, realizing something. "You guys, there was a car parked outside of my house last night. It was gone when I got up this morning. You don't think – "

"No," Hanna cuts me off, smiling a little. "That was just me and Caleb. We spent the night outside of your house, to see if she came home."

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. Sometimes these girls really can be stupid. "Seriously? You really didn't think I'd notice if I'm home alone or not?"

"We didn't want to tell you anything until we knew for sure that something's wrong," Emily explains, sitting down beside me. I'm surprised by her sudden compassion. Out of all the girls, I've always felt like Emily's trusted me the least, probably because she was always the closest to Alison. "I barely slept last night."

"I don't think I'll ever sleep again," I counter, probably the twentieth time I've had that thought over the past few months. "What are we going to – "

The doorbell cuts me off, and Spencer glances at us all, her eyes wide with uncertainty as she gets up to answer it. She returns only a moment later, a large box covered in brown paper in her arms. "Guys, another one."

" 'A' can't even give us one day," Hanna mutters, shaking her head as Spencer sets the box down and rips off the paper.

A plain black box sits in front of us, with a knob on top and on either side. I reach out shakily, pulling open the little opening on the side of the box. We all peer inside, and I hold my breath, fearing the worst.

"There's nothing here," Hanna exclaims.

"It's just an empty box," I say in disbelief, sitting back on my heels. "What the heck?"

Though Emily, Aria, and Hanna all share my looks of confusion, Spencer furrows her brow and moves closer, frowning deeply. "Or maybe not."

Hanna rolls her eyes. "For once, I'm right and you're wrong, Spencer," she protests, a little triumphantly. I hold back a laugh. Being friends with a genius must get pretty tiring. I would know. I _live_ with one.

Or, I _did._ I feel my stomach clench with fear. "What are you doing?" I demand as Spencer moves her hand across the box in a fashion that does not look random. Then she grabs the little handle on the top and pulls.

The sides of the box collapse away, revealing, of all things, an old-fashioned hand saw, propped upright in the center of the table. We all gasp, leaning away. I jump to my feet and bend down, examining the words written on the saw in what looks suspiciously like blood.

 _Watch me make a girl disappear. Kisses, A_

"I'm gonna be sick," I groan, pressing my hand to my stomach and sinking back down onto the couch. I try to look away from the saw, only for my eyes to land on the doll in the coffin instead. I squeeze my eyes shut, the only escape from a life completely taken over by "A."

"How did you do that?" I hear someone ask in shock.

Spencer's nonchalant voice replies, "Took home first prize for my magic act at performing arts camp."

I open my eyes just in time to see Aria roll hers, snorting, "Of course you did."

I stare at the saw, trying to make sense of it all with the little knowledge that I have. I feel like I'm definitely missing something here – this does not seem like a random message, or else "A" would have just sent it by text. There is definitely some meaning to the saw, but I can't figure out what it is until Spencer exclaims, "It's magic!"

"What?" Emily asks.

"Watch me make a girl disappear," Spencer explains, her voice growing in excitement. " 'A's' not playing a game, she's putting on a magic show."

Hanna looks just as confused as I feel. "Why would Cece do that?"

 _Cece?_ I have never even heard that name, and yet I feel waves of familiarity anyway. For some reason, I feel like I know who this is, but I have no idea why they all suddenly believe that she's "A."

I open my mouth to question this, but at the last second decide against it. If I learned anything from my time on the "A" team, it's that these girls change their prime suspect for "A" at least once a week, and they're wrong one hundred percent of the time. If they really think that whoever this Cece person is can be "A," they're probably wrong.

Spencer keeps talking, ignoring the confusion that must be written all over my face. "People want to go to magic shows to be deceived. They want to believe in something they know can't be true."

I snap back to the present, just as I realize where I've heard the name Cece. She was just accused of killing Detective Wilden, which must be why my sister was released from Radley. Maybe she _is_ involved in all of this.

I picture her face in my mind, from the police sketch that has been all over the news for the past day or so. I know that this must be where I've heard the name, but I still can't shake the feeling that there's something more here, that I know her from somewhere else. In fact, I can actually picture what her voice sounds like, though I can't remember ever talking to her.

"Wait," I interrupt, standing from the couch and crossing my arms. "You think that 'A' is putting on a magic show?"

"Yeah," Aria agrees, shaking her head, "and we're the audience?"

"No, we're not the audience," Spencer corrects us, glancing down at the saw. "I think we're part of the act."

I feel my gaze drawn to the little coffin, and my stomach turns over. No one else seems willing to say it, so I do. "And she's gonna make Mona disappear forever."

...

 **Again, let me know what you think. Next up, Viola goes along with the girls to Ravenswood...and discovers something huge.**


	31. Chapter 31

**This is a big chapter, you guys. Especially the ending. Thanks so much to karma3825, RHatch89, nick2951, Fun With Typing, Mr Tea The Dino, and Pinkpoodle8 for reviewing. I really look forward to reading what you guys have to say about this chapter, so be sure to let me know what you think.**

Chapter 31

If I thought Rosewood was weird, Ravenswood is like being on a whole different planet.

The air is chilly, and I wrap my arms around myself, shivering as I follow the other girls toward the park, where I can already hear carnival music playing. "The Great Charlemagne," I read off of the poster clutched in my hand. "Are you guys sure this is a good idea?"

Spencer glances back at me. She's leading the way, of course. "Do we have any other choice? Come on. We're right on time."

We traipse into the park, where a crowd has already gathered in front of a small stage featuring a tall, lanky person, whose face is covered with a layer of face paint so thick that it could be a mask, standing beside a large black box.

"Guys," Hanna whispers, grabbing Aria by the arm. "I think we're being watched."

I follow her gaze, spotting a tall, creepy-looking man standing near the back of the crowd. Sure enough, his gaze is centered right on us. I shudder and look away, trying not to think anything of it. _Most_ people around here are pretty creepy-looking, now that I really look around.

The magician appears to be a mime. He does not speak, only moving fluidly with the music as he gestures to the box, then points directly at Aria. Her face drains of all color. He's clearly looking for a volunteer. "Wha – me? No way."

The crowd is laughing, murmuring their encouragements as the magician points again, more insistently this time. Aria shakes her head firmly. "Really, I just don't do boxes." She glances at me, and I avert my eyes, reddening. I still feel bad about what happened to her on the Halloween train, even though I had nothing to do with it.

As much as I miss the thrill of adrenaline whenever I carried out an "A" plan, I definitely don't miss hurting people.

By this point, the mime has jumped right off of the stage and walked right up to us. "Here," Aria says suddenly, shoving Spencer forward. "Take her. She loves magic."

Spencer glares at her for a moment as the mime bends his knees, making a puppy-dog face through the makeup. "I don't think he's going away," Spencer whispers. "I know this trick. You'll be okay."

"Just go," I hiss, nudging Aria's arm. "We need to see what happens."

Aria finally relents, following the mime onto the stage and moving to stand reluctantly inside the open box. He slams it shut, gestures exaggeratedly, and opens it.

Aria is gone, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat until he closes and opens the box a second time, revealing that the tiny girl is alive and well. I clap along with everyone else as she takes the rose that he offers, impressed. Maybe I'll actually become a fan of magic if it means helping get my sister back.

"That was great," Hanna cheers as Aria rushes back up to us. I laugh, grabbing her arm, but Spencer looks alarmed, gazing around.

"Where's Emily?" she asks in horror, and I turn in a circle, realizing that she's right. Our group of five has decreased to four.

The girls' phones chime with a text, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it's from. A beat later, I hear the sound of my own cell, and feel my heart skip a beat. I pull it out uneasily. "A" must be watching us. They must know that I'm here, too.

We exchange concerned glances, checking our phones simultaneously. The message is in French, but I know enough to figure out what it means. _Leger de main._

Hanna wrinkles her brow, squinting down at it as she reads it aloud, mispronouncing the first word.

Spencer and I correct her in unison, and she adds quietly, "Slight of hand."

"I can't believe it," I gasp, shoving my phone into my pocket. "When we were watching you, 'A' took Emily."

Instead of putting her phone away, Aria dials Emily's number and holds the phone out. After a few long, horrible moments, Emily answers, her terrified voice ringing through the phone. "Aria?"

"Are you alright?" Aria asks, staring at us in alarm.

"I don't know where I am!" Emily yells, clearly scared and most likely crying. "I don't see anything. It's dark!"

"We're gonna find you, I promise," Spencer calls as Aria changes the phone to speaker. "You just have to help us out."

There is a loud gasp before Emily sobs, "I think I'm locked in a coffin!" She pauses, and the only sound that comes through the phone is a loud whirring. "It's a saw!" Emily cries. "I hear a saw?"

"Like a chainsaw?"

"No! It's big and loud! It's cutting wood and it's getting louder!"

Before she's even finished speaking, Spencer has her phone out and is typing away furiously. "Grunwald lived on Sawmill Road," she says, and I add "Grunwald" to the list of names that I do not recognize. "Oh my god. We're practically on top of it."

"Hold on, Emily!" I yell into Aria's phone, my heart pounding. "We're coming!"

Aria ends the call and we're off, running down the street and around the corner, following the directions on Spencer's phone. I'm glad that I had the common sense not to wear high heels on this adventure. We slam into what looks to be the abandoned warehouse where Emily's cell signal was coming from, and we immediately find the source of the whirring.

A loud, electronic saw sits on a conveyor ahead of us, whirring furiously. On the belt are two objects: A long log, followed by what appears to be a wooden coffin. Banging sounds echo from the box, accompanied by frantic sobbing.

"Emily!" I scream, running alongside the others over to the coffin as she cries out for our help. "How do we get this open?"

We run frantically back and forth for what seems like forever, helplessly looking for some sort of device to turn off the conveyor. It seems hopeless. There's no button, no switch to stop Emily from meeting certain death. And the box is locked tight.

And then the belt stops moving.

"What?" I gasp, exchanging surprised glances with the others. I'm about to comment further, try to figure out how to help Emily escape, when a flash of red moving up the stairs catches my eye. I whirl around, watching Red Coat run up to the second floor. "Guys!"

"There are two of them?" Hanna exclaims, pointing at the door, where a second person in a red coat is exiting. I stare between the two, having trouble comprehending this. My mind cannot make up what to do, but my legs do the thinking for me, and I'm halfway out the door before I realize what I'm doing.

I'm halfway down the sidewalk, Red Coat lurking in a nearby doorway, when I realize that Spencer is beside me. "No," I yell, glancing over at her. "Go help Hanna get Emily out!"

"No way," she yells back, just reaching the doorway, but I push past her, adrenaline coursing through my body.

"Go!" I cry, watching the person in the trench coat pause, halfway up the set of stairs in front of us. It looks like she almost wants us to follow her. "I won't let her get away! _Trust me!_ "

Spencer looks for a moment like she doesn't believe me, but it seems like her concern for Emily finally wins out, and she turns, sprinting back toward the warehouse. I run the other way, chasing Red Coat up the stairs and wondering briefly if I'm following the real villain, or the imposter.

"Who are you?" I yell, pounding up the stairs toward the hooded person, who has stopped, once again, in front of the door at the top. For me, this confirms it. Whoever this is wants me to follow them.

As soon as I get close, the person, clearly a female, turns, about to dart away again. But I can't let that happen. I haven't been this close to Red Coat since she dragged me out of the fire at the lodge. I'm not going to let her get away from me again, not when I'm finally conscious to do something about it.

I dive forward, grabbing onto the sleeve of the coat. The person jerks away, pulling at the coat, but I know that she can't slip out of it without exposing her identity. I tighten my grip, holding on so hard that my knuckles turn white.

"Give it up!" I scream, pulling myself up the remainder of the stairs until I'm on the same level, right in front of that mysterious door. I grab the person's shoulder with my other hand, a wave of déjà vu to the night I unmasked Mona, all those months ago, coming back to me.

Thinking of my sister sends a new wave of anger through me. If this really is Red Coat, then she knows what happened to her. Furious, I yell out, "You're gonna tell me where my sister is, or I'm gonna do a lot worse to you!"

The person is struggling against my grasp, trying frantically to pull away, but before I can lose the opportunity, I release her sleeve and reach up, my fingers closing around the blood red hood.

The fact that I'm about to unmask the person who has been behind this game since the start of the school year does not even occur to me through my adrenaline. Not giving myself time to think, I push down the hood, and a shocked face stares back at me.

It's Alison.

...

 **Thanks for reading! Next up, Viola's unnerving realization that Alison is alive leaves her more unsure than ever...and another discovery leads the girls closer to finally finding out who "A" is.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Wow, I can't believe I got six reviews so quickly. You guys are amazing! And please make sure that you review this chapter, too, because the next one is BIG. Like, remember how I said the last chapter was big? Multiply that by ten. I'd love to get it up in a few days, or even tomorrow, so let me know what you think!**

Chapter 32

A feeling of shock spreads through my body all at once, reverberating like I was just struck by lightning.

Alison DiLaurentis was murdered over two years ago, in her own backyard. There's a headstone in the graveyard with her name on it. Her _body_ was dug up by "A" only two months ago!

And now she's standing in front of me, very much alive and not even unhealthy looking. Her face is bright and full, her blond hair cascading in curls halfway down her back, no longer concealed by the red hood.

She looks fine…aside from her expression of both shock and…anger?

"Oh my god," I whisper, because that's the only thing I can think of. I can tell that the last place she wants to be right now is here, and I wonder briefly why she's not running. Then I look down, and realize that my hand is still gripping the sleeve of her coat tightly.

Alison seems to realize this at the same time as I do, and yanks out of my grasp. She turns, but I reach out, pulling her back before she can disappear. "Wait! Oh my god, you're…you're _alive._ "

"Viola," she says under her breath, her voice low and pleading. "You need to get out of here."

"You're _alive,_ " I repeat, because it's the only thing that's running through my head. "You've been alive this whole time…oh my _god._ "

"You need to go," Alison says again, shaking her head and glancing down the stairs at the entrance to the building. "And you can't tell anyone that you saw me."

Immediately, my wonder at seeing her alive is replaced by about a million questions. I was never friends with Alison – in fact, I hated her – but I want to know everything. Where she's been all this time, who's buried in her place, why she left…

But I choose the most pressing question out of the mess in my mind and blurt out, "Why? Where are you going?"

"I can't come back," she says, and now it's her who grabs me by the arms. Her expression is so intense that I am actually a little frightened. "Not yet. You're not supposed to know I'm here."

I wiggle out of her grasp, backing up until I'm right against the edge of the stairs. I stop myself before I topple right down. "You're – you're Red Coat," I gasp, grabbing onto the banister and feeling like I'm going to pass out. "You're 'A.'"

Ali's expression softens into a frown. She looks disappointed, but also almost…scared. "Oh, honey," she says sadly. "Things aren't always what they seem."

"What?" I demand, but then she's gone, darting around the corner and up another set of stairs, her red coat billowing out behind her. I gasp and rush after her, but by the time I get to the bottom of the staircase, she's gone.

I lean against the wall, pressing a hand to my thumping heart. I have been to hell and back over the past year, and that was by far the most shocking thing I have ever seen.

I can't believe it. She's alive. Alison is really alive. I remember back to the night of the lodge fire, when Mona, Hanna, and Spencer had all insisted that they'd seen her. I close my eyes, thinking of that flash of red I'd seen right as I had woken up.

It _was_ Alison.

And she obviously hadn't meant for me to find out it was her. But still…the way she had waited in the doorway, and again at the top of the stairs. She wanted me to find this place, wanted all of us to. I stare at the door in front of me. All at once, I realize that Alison isn't "A."

But maybe she just led us to "A."

My head spinning, I rush down the stairs just as I hear footsteps pounding down the street. The other girls appear in the doorway, Emily among them. I breathe a sigh of relief. I'd almost forgotten about her near death just minutes ago. It seems more like a lifetime ago.

"Viola," Hanna cries upon seeing me. "We've been looking all over for you."

"The other red coat was Cece," Aria says, out of breath. "She fell off the landing, and she's gone. She escaped."

"Did you catch the other one?" Spencer asks intently, looking around. "Did you see who it was?"  
I open my mouth but only a squeak comes out. I want to tell them everything, that their old best friend is alive and has been this whole time, that all of our suspicions were correct. Isn't this what they've always wanted, for Ali to be alive?

But Alison's words just moments ago stop me. She sounded so insistent that no one is to know that she's alive, that she can't come back. She'd looked almost scared when she asked me to keep her secret.

I'm used to being on the other side of the equation, of begging people to keep _my_ secrets. It's been a long time since I've been asked to keep quiet about something.

I know what it's like to fear your secret getting out. So, as much as I couldn't stand Alison when she was alive – well, before she went missing, I guess – I know what I have to do.

"No," I say bluntly, shaking my head and staring down at the concrete floor. "I didn't. But guys…I think whoever it was wanted to show us something. She wanted me to follow her, she led me right up to the door at the top of the stairs and then disappeared."

"I saw her, too," Spencer replies. "In the doorway." She glances at the others, but focuses her attention on me. "Do you think…I think it might have been Ali. You're right. She definitely wanted us to follow her."

I feel my heart stop for a moment. But maybe this is a good thing. Now I don't have to completely lie, just pretend like I'm not as sure as I really am. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," I agree quickly, hoping I don't sound too eager. "I bet whatever she wanted us to find is right behind that door."

"Come on," Spencer declares, already heading up the stairs. The rest of us follow, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief. For now, at least, they seem to believe me.

The door at the top of the steps is shut tight, but when Spencer reaches out for the doorknob, it turns easily. She pushes it open and we exchange uneasy glances before trooping inside.

We enter a room filled with pictures. Large ones at first, the size of paintings, covering the walls. They're all of Ali, smiling in some, even blowing a bubble in another. As we walk further into the room, though, it becomes apparent that there are photos of much more than Alison in here.

Most of the pictures that cover the walls and the several big whiteboards in the center of the room are of the four girls beside me. But along with them are pictures of everyone they've ever met, including myself. My latest yearbook photo is stuck to one of the boards, with the words "Viola V. – little sister" written below it.

The feature of the room, though, is along the far wall. A large desk takes up most of the space, with three or four big computer monitors and keyboards filling it. I'm itching to sit down in front of them, see what kind of information could be on those things, but I'm sure they're locked up tight.

But despite my fear, I can't help the little triumphant smirk that crosses my face. I was right. There's no doubt about it.

This is "A's" lair.

"What is this place?" Hanna asks in horror, stepping around me to walk further into the room.

"I think it's 'A's' lair," Spencer replies, confirming my own thoughts.

"Guys, look at this," Aria calls. She's standing beside one of the whiteboards, examining it. "There's a timeline for each of us. All our secrets, private moments…he's documenting everything."

"He?" I repeat, looking around. There's nothing on any of the boards to suggest that "A" is a male. "Why do you say that?"

"It has to be a guy," Spencer explains, gesturing to a wardrobe along the opposite wall, that I hadn't noticed before. It's partially open, revealing a row of neatly pressed black suits. " _'A'_ has to be a guy."

Whoa. I walk over and rub the material of one of the jackets between my fingers, trying to wrap my head around this. All this time, the game has seemed so feminine. There was never a question in my mind that the person in charge of all of this could be a guy.

 _Bitches. Kisses._ The wording in the texts always screamed out "girl" to me, even when "A" was sending me orders. The thought of "A" being a man sends a chill down my spine. Somehow, it makes this even creepier.

"Viola," Emily says, catching my attention. "Did you know anything about this place, when you were working with 'A'?"

"No," I say instantly, tearing my eyes away from the suits. "The RV was the last lair that I ever knew about, I swear. 'A' must have found this place pretty recently."

For once, the girls seem satisfied with my answer, and don't question me further. They keep talking as they walk around the room, messing with the boards, the pictures on the walls, and especially the elaborate computer system.

I try to listen, knowing that what they're talking about is probably important, but all I can focus on is my conversation with Alison. There was something so strange about her, like she was an apparition and not a real person. Like instead of grabbing onto her arm, my hand should have gone right through her.

"Guys," Spencer calls, breaking me out of my daze. She's standing at one of the whiteboards, and gestures for us to join her. " 'A' hasn't just been watching us. I think that he's been following Ali, too. Look, he has her at the lodge the night of the fire. It looks like he's been following her trail to Ravenswood."

Hanna looks thoroughly creeped out. "If Ali's been alive this whole time, then whose funeral did we go to?"

Aria grimaces. "Okay, that's creepy."

I stare intently at the board of pictures and timelines. This would be the perfect time to tell them about what I saw, about what Alison just told me. If they already think that's she's alive, what would confirming it really do?

But thinking back to the look of pure fear on her face keeps me quiet. She said that she'd be back soon. I can keep her secret until then. It's all I _can_ do.

And as big of a bitch as Alison was (or is?), I have a strange feeling that she'd do the same for me.

I gaze around the room, trying to shake this from my head, when I catch sight of a flyer on the table. I grab it and stare. "Check this out," I say to the others, waving it in the air. "There's some celebration going on tonight." I point to the handwritten note on the flyer. _11 pm,_ written in red pen. "And 'A' thinks that Ali's going to be there."

"Which means we have to find her first," Emily chimes in, taking the flyer out of my hands and staring down at it.

I shake my head. This seems like a bad idea. The longer I'm in Ravenswood, the more uneasy I get. I already know Ali's alive…I don't need proof. And would Alison even want me to find her? We've never been friends. I already know that I'd feel like a hanger-on if I went to the party with these girls.

"My mom thinks I'll be back for dinner," I lie, backing toward the door. "I really have to go."

Spencer looks almost aghast. "Seriously? You have to go _now?_ "

"I'm sorry," I say, a little glad, despite myself, that it seems like they've finally included me. "I can't lie to my mother again. Don't worry about it. I'll take the bus back to Rosewood and get my car from your house."

"Fine," Hanna gives in, walking over to sit at the computer. "But be careful."

"You too," I warn, grabbing the doorknob. "Text me if anything happens."

And something does. I've only been on the bus for ten minutes, trying to ignore the creepy old man who keeps staring at me, when my phone chimes. It's a text from Hanna, and reading it sends my mind into a tailspin all over again.

 _Just talked to Mrs. Grunwald. She pulled Alison out of the ground that night. Ali's alive?_

 _..._

 **Next up, a repressed memory is sparked that changes Viola's entire perspective of that fateful night. Any theories? Let me know in the reviews!**


	33. Chapter 33

**You guys blew me away with seven reviews in less than twenty four hours! So I figured I'd go ahead and post this today. Thanks to Fun With Typing, Mr Tea The Dino, RHatch89, karma3825 (aka Guest, haha), and nick2951, and to laurenjauregui for reviewing for the first time. I love getting new reviewers and I'm glad you like the story! So here we go...the big one. I don't plan on continuing every day updates because I don't want this story to end too fast, but don't forget to review - I can't wait to read what you guys think of this one.**

Chapter 33

I replay Hanna's message in my head over and over as I stop at a red light, drumming my fingernails against the steering wheel. Somehow, Alison was buried that night. And whoever this Mrs. Grunwald person is managed to get her out. So whose body is currently in custody? And what really happened to Alison that night?

There's construction going on by the future apartment complex to my left. As the traffic inches forward, I lean my head back against the seat and turn to watch. I really didn't need this addition to my problems. I still have no idea where my sister is, and it's already after six o'clock. Why can't crises happen on different days?

Almost without thinking, I pull out my phone and read over Hanna's text again, my stomach flipping, as always. I don't know why I keep reading it, like I'm expecting it to suddenly change, for it to suddenly read that Alison really was killed that night. That would mean that I never really saw her, that I was hallucinating and am possibly crazy, but it might lessen my problems a little.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat, out of my reach. The traffic light turns red again, and I groan in frustration, knocking my hand against the wheel. All I want is to go home and pretend my life is normal for at least half an hour.

There's digging going on in the big area of dirt beside the road. Workers in bright orange jackets and yellow hard hats are holding shovels, tossing aside dirt and stones. Suddenly desperate for fresh air, I roll down my window, just as one of the workers strikes his shovel into the ground.

The sound that it makes as it connects with the dirt is unmistakable. My hands let go of the steering wheel, dropping into my lap. I am aware of my heart speeding up, of my head beginning to pound, and even possibly of a panic attack setting in, but I can't focus on any of that.

Because all it took was that one sound to send me back to a memory that has been long buried.

…

 _For some reason, I was so psyched to go to high school that I could barely sit still. It was almost twelve o'clock the night before Labor Day, around the time I usually went to bed, and I felt like I had just had a whole pot of coffee._

 _"_ _Viola," my dad called from where he sat on the couch, reading a book. "I think it's time you calm it down." He smiled as he said it, though, and I knew he wasn't really mad. My dad was barely around anymore, always flying off to some other state for some business conference or training session. But he always made sure that he was home for our first day of school. For some reason, it was important to him._

 _And this year it was important to me, too. I bounced up and down in the chair across the room one last time, then finally let myself fall back. "Tuesday can't come fast enough," I said gleefully, picturing the outfit already hung carefully in the front of my closet for the first day of school._

 _My dad grinned at me over his book. "Viola Vanderwaal, actually excited about going back to school? I think I need to take a picture."_

 _"_ _It's high school, Dad," I told him, rolling my eyes with a smile as I grabbed a peppermint out of the little bowl on the coffee table. I popped it in my mouth and spoke around it. "I can't wait. We got our schedules in the mail last week, and Macy and I have lockers right next to each other."_

 _"_ _Just one more day, sweetie, and you'll officially be a high school freshman," my dad said, turning a page in his book and frowning deeply. "I'm not sure I like the thought of that."_

 _"_ _God, tomorrow's gonna go so slowly," I groaned, something that I'd never before said about the last day of summer, just as my mother walked in, her brow furrowed and a worried frown on her face. "What's wrong, Mom?"_

 _"_ _I'm getting a little worried about your sister," she admitted, pushing the curtain aside and peeking out the window. "She didn't mention that she'd be out this late."_

 _I frowned, examining my nails and thinking about this. It_ was _a little weird, now that I thought about it. I couldn't remember the last time that Mona had ever gone out with friends. Actually, I wasn't even aware that she had friends, considering Alison DiLaurentis had spent the past school year turning everyone against her._

 _But a few hours ago she had walked downstairs and announced that she was going out. Not where she was going, not when she would be back, just that she was going to meet "a couple friends." If_ I _had made a similar announcement, I would have gotten the third degree. But I think my mother was just so happy to see her oldest daughter actually going out that she barely batted an eyelash._

 _I had been a little worried the whole night, actually. But what did I know? I went to the middle school, not the high school. Maybe Mona had some secret friend that I knew nothing about. Unlikely, but I didn't think it was my business._

 _My mom frowned at me, releasing the curtain just as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. "You don't know who she went out with, do you, Viola?"_

 _"_ _No," I said earnestly, standing up and brushing my hair in front of my shoulder. "I have no idea." But I thought for a moment longer, suddenly remembering my sister mentioning the name "Jenna" to me a few times, most likely referencing Jenna Cavanaugh, who lived down the street. Just two months ago, she had been blinded by her own stepbrother, Toby, in a horrible accident, and had just come back home last week._

 _I wasn't really sure if Mona and Jenna were necessarily friends, but that was the only possibility that I could think of. "You know what?" I said, and both my parents looked over at me. "I think she might be at the Cavanaughs' house."_

 _"_ _You mean_ Toby _Cavanaugh?" my father asked, sounding horrified. "That can't be true."_

 _"_ _Not Toby," I reassured him, shaking my head. "He's away at juvie, remember? I think Mona might be friends with Jenna, though…I can walk over and see if she's there."_

 _My father nodded, but my mother looked unconvinced. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you going over to that house."_

 _I shrugged, heading for the door anyway. "Your other kid might already be there," I reminded her. "And like I said, Toby's long gone. It's not like I'm gonna get blinded. And anyway, I want to see Jenna, see if she's doing okay."_

 _That last part wasn't true – I'd never spoken to Jenna in my life – but the thought of the freshly-blind girl was enough to convince my mother. "Okay," she said slowly, glancing out the window once more. "But come right home. It's late."_

 _"_ _I will," I promised. "It's summer, Mom. Live a little!" Then I slipped out the door, into the dark night, before she could change her mind._

 _I started for the sidewalk, planning to walk down the block to Jenna's with the streetlights giving me at least some light. But I was only one house down when a pair of headlights swung onto the street, and I squinted, recognizing a police car headed toward me._

 _"_ _Dammit," I grumbled, glancing around frantically. Technically, the curfew in Rosewood was midnight, and according to my phone, it was now quarter after. I wasn't doing anything illegal or even bad, but the last thing I wanted was for my parents to find me being questioned by the police._

 _The squad car was too close for me to risk running back to my house, and the Cavanaughs' was definitely too far away. The Hastings house, however, was right in front of me, with a clear path leading to their backyard. All I'd have to do is cut through their yard and head back for the sidewalk, and I'd be in the clear._

 _Squinting in the dark, I pushed through a hedge and darted around the side of the house, only stopping when the barn in their backyard came into view. I grimaced, realizing with a sinking feeling that Alison was having her end-of-summer sleepover that night. I only knew this because she had taunted Mona about it just a few weeks ago._

 _The last thing I wanted was to run right into Alison or any of her friends. Ali had never scared me – I mostly stayed off of her radar, aside from the few times I caught her messing with my sister and told her off – but I still wanted to avoid explaining why I was sneaking through Spencer's backyard in the middle of the night._

 _I crept around to the side of the back porch and peered over at the barn. I could see a candle flickering inside – wow, stupid – but aside from that, it was completely dark. They all must have been asleep._

 _Relieved, I was still careful to be quiet as I walked around to the backyard. The Hastings property was huge, but when I made it to the other end, I was shocked to discover that there wasn't a clear path back around to the front. The back porch wrapped around to the side, and I could make out one, maybe two figures standing there. I definitely couldn't risk being seen._

 _I glanced back toward the barn, wondering if I should go back the way I came. The cop car would definitely be gone by now. But now the barn doors were facing me, and with my luck, someone would probably come out just as I was passing by._

 _Okay. So maybe Alison did scare me. A little._

 _But it was fine. I'd just cut through the DiLaurentis' backyard instead. Ali wasn't home. And judging by what I now knew about Jason, he was probably passed out drunk somewhere._

 _I turned sideways and shimmied through the hedges separating the two yards. The back porch partially constructed my view of the yard, so I moved carefully around the side of it. Just before I walked right under the porch light, I spotted two figures in the center of the yard, near where the construction for the new gazebo lay._

 _I leapt back before I was spotted, squinting to make out the figures. The taller of the two stood with her back to me. Long, wavy blond hair hung down the girl's back, somewhat hiding the yellow tank top that she wore._

 _Alison? What was she doing standing in the middle of her backyard, and not sleeping in the barn with her friends? I crept closer, peeking around the side of the back porch and making sure to stay in the dark._

 _I turned my head, focusing on the smaller girl, who was walking slowly, almost uncertainly toward Alison. I could see the outline of a shovel, probably left behind by one of the workers for the gazebo, laying on the grass in front of her, and I wondered for a moment if she was going to trip on it._

 _But then the girl leaned down and picked it up, moving much faster now. I was just beginning to get alarmed when a burst of lighting struck the sky, lighting up the whole backyard, and I got a clear view of who I was looking at._

 _My sister._

 _"_ _Mona?" I whispered, barely making a sound as she paused, weighing the shovel in her hands and taking another step closer to the still unmoving Alison, her ponytails bouncing slightly._

 _I knew what was going to happen. There was only one outcome for this situation. But I couldn't put the pieces together until I watched my older sister, in one fast, angry motion, raise the shovel and step forward, bashing it into the side of Alison's head._

 _Ali's knees gave out at the same time that I felt mine buckle. We both fell, but the only difference was that Alison crumpled to the ground, facedown on the grass, while I dropped to my knees, my arms wrapping around my stomach._

 _Mona took a step closer to the motionless Alison, then looked up, glancing around before taking off, thankfully running around to the front of the house instead of toward me._

 _I couldn't breathe. I just watched my sister – my sweet, shy sister – whack the most popular girl in school over the head with a shovel. An actual, cliché_ shovel. _I couldn't tear my eyes away from Alison, lying on the grass, not moving. Could she actually be dead? Could someone actually die from being hit with a shovel? It sure looked like it._

 _I had to get home. I had to get home and pretend like this never happened. No. I had to get home and tell my parents exactly what I just saw. No. I couldn't do that…could I?_

 _My head felt like it was going to split open. Black dots swam in front of my vision. It was only when I stood up and was hit by a wave of both dizziness and nausea that I realized I was having my first panic attack since that terrible night at the party._

 _Only this one was way worse. The night of the party, squatting on the sidewalk, I'd thought I was going to throw up. But this time, I legitimately thought – no,_ knew _– that I was going to pass out._

 _Literally gasping for breath, I ran, knowing that I had to get home before either someone discovered Alison's body, or I collapsed right on the ground. I pounded down the sidewalk, my vision growing narrower as I replayed that horrible moment in my head. The sickening sound of the shovel as it made contact with Alison's skull._

 _I knew that I would never get that sound out of my mind._

 _Somehow, I made it home and flung open the front door, not even bothering to close it behind me as I bolted right up the stairs and into my room. My narrowing vision spun, so badly that I actually had to physically reach out and feel around until I made contact with my bed._

 _I fell onto it, and finally gave in to the panic. I passed out._

 _…_

 _Beep!_

My body reacts before my brain, and I press my foot to the gas, my car jolting through the stoplight before someone can honk their horn again. As soon as I can, I pull to the side of the street and park, my hand flying to my mouth.

My head is beginning to spin again, and I close my eyes, breathing deeply until I calm down enough to think about this.

Until this moment, I didn't remember that. I didn't remember any of that. The last memory of that night that I've had all this time was sitting in the living room of my house, bouncing on the chair and talking to my father about my excitement over high school, and then of waking up the next morning, wondering why I never put on my pajamas.

I had no memory of going out to look for Mona. No memory of cutting through the DiLaurentis backyard.

And no memory of watching my sister kill Alison.

But no. That's the thing. She _didn't_ kill Alison. Unless what I saw just a few hours ago was a hallucination, although I'm pretty sure that's unlikely.

Okay. I take a deep, shaky breath, gathering my thoughts. So Mona hit Ali that night, enough to knock her out but not enough to kill her. Someone must have come across her body and buried her, thinking she was dead. Then Mrs. Grunwald came along and pulled her out, very much alive.

The thought that my sister is not actually a murderer makes me a little less terrified, but it's not enough to slow my pounding heart. I knew that Mona hated Alison. She _cried_ to me over how much she hated Alison.

But I never thought she'd be capable of something like that.

I close my eyes tightly, a few tears leaking out. I can't believe I've gone two years of my life keeping that memory repressed. I thought that sort of thing only happened in books and TV dramas, people forgetting terrible events until something jogs their mind.

Right now, I feel like my whole life is a soap opera.

...

 **Congrats to laurenjauregui for being mostly right about the flashback! Next up, Viola, completely fed up with everything, decides to return to "A's" lair, determined to figure out who "A" is at last.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! nick2951, I know that's super frustrating to you. But I promise, once we get through this Ezra arc, Viola's loyalties are going to become a bigger part of the story. Right now, she's mostly just dealing with shock, not necessarily taking sides. But things are going to be changing soon, so just hold on! This is a pretty exciting chapter...think we can get back up to five or six reviews? That would be delightful!**

Chapter 34

I wake up the next morning feeling like I have a fire burning in my heart. I feel a certain kind of energy that I never thought possible when I fell asleep last night, after hours of tossing and turning, my dreams filled with shovels and yellow tops.

I jump out of bed and grab the same pair of jeans that I had on yesterday, pulling them on without a second thought. Who cares if they're dirty? Today isn't a day for sitting around worrying about clothes.

Today I'm going back to Ravenswood. To "A's" lair.

I'm not sure where this idea came from, only that as soon as I opened my eyes, it hit me. This has gone on far enough. I want answers, and I want them now. And there's only one person who seems to know everything.

I finish getting dressed and grab my purse and a jacket, checking my phone one last time as I head down the stairs. I'm hoping for a text from one of the girls, about how the big celebration in Ravenswood went down last night, if they found Alison or not. But everything is silent.

Knowing what I do now, I'm a little relieved. I'm aware that I need to tell them about what I remembered yesterday, but I already know that I won't be able to bring myself to. They probably wouldn't even believe me. I mean, who actually represses memories, anyway? It sounds like something out of a bad movie.

And besides, I can't throw my sister under the bus like that. Yes, of course it was wrong of her to whack Alison in the head, as awful as that girl could be. But it's not my story to tell. And before I decide what I'm going to do, I need to get my own feelings under control. Those girls don't need another reason to fly off of the handle.

I set my purse down on the steps and walk into the kitchen. I'm barely in the doorway when I freeze.

"Viola. Hey." Mona stands up from the table, a mug of coffee in her hand. She smiles. "Everything okay?"

I wonder briefly how pale my face is as I turn away, opening the refrigerator and trying to regain my composure. "Fine," I say sharply, hoping my voice doesn't sound as shaky as I feel. I pull out the carton of juice and raise my eyebrows. "Where have you been?"

Her purse is hanging over the back of the chair. She reaches into it and pulls out a set of car keys. "Buying a car. Oh, thanks for giving Shana the first deposit."

I take a sip of juice, trying to steady my breathing. I try to picture her slamming a shovel into someone's head, with a lot of difficulty. But she did. That memory was too clear. Somehow, I know it's true.

I clear my throat and say, to focus on one crisis at a time, " 'A' sent messages to the girls. They made us think they were going to hurt you. It scared the crap out of me." My voice is flat, despite the thousand emotions that are rushing through my head.

Mona shifts uncomfortably, setting down the coffee. "I know."

"What?" I whirl around, my fear temporarily forgotten.

"I got a message from 'A' a few days ago," she explains, "telling me to leave town…or else. I went to that bed and breakfast place, about an hour from here. Shana met me there, and I gave her the rest of the money for the car."

So it really was just a setup, I realize, shaking my head in disgust. Of course. That's what "A" does best – making your fears way worse than the reality. But I can't say that I'm not still suspicious. "Why did you buy Jenna's car?" I ask, setting my empty glass in the sink and folding my arms.

Mona looks directly at me, smiling. "Sometimes it's just nice to change things up."

I have no idea what that means, and I'm positive that she's lying. But I'm too fired up to question her further, and still very freaked out by the memory that resurfaced yesterday, so I back toward the exit. "Whatever. I have to go."

"Are you sure you're okay, Viola? You look a little weird."

"I'm fine," I snap, and stomp out, grabbing my purse and jacket and not stopping until I'm in my car. I should have asked her about what I remembered. Keeping secrets has never helped me before, so why should it now? But I press a hand to my chest. I'm not ready for that conversation.

It takes about half an hour to get to Ravenswood, and thirty more minutes to locate the run-down building that I'm looking for. I park my car a block away and head down the street, not even completely sure that I'm in the right place. Everything in this town is so monotone and bland that it all looks the same.

I arrive at what I think is the right building and swing open the door, walking up the set of stairs. Sure enough, the wooden door waits at the top, same as yesterday. I grab the doorknob, but this time, it's locked.

 _Why?_ I wonder as I pull a bobby pin out of my hair. Why would "A" leave the door unlocked yesterday and not today? Did he somehow realize that we were there, that something was out of place or missing?

I've never picked a lock before, but I've seen Spencer do it enough times to figure it out. I stick the end of the bobby pin in the keyhole and wiggle it around. After a moment, I hear a small click and smile triumphantly. I'm in.

Proud of my sleuthing skills, I push open the door quietly and glance back to make sure no one is watching before I slip inside. The lights are on in the room and I freeze for a moment, terrified that "A" is in here. I should have knocked before I came in. I could be walking right into my own death.

But it quickly becomes apparent that the lair is just as empty as it was yesterday. I shut the door quietly behind me and step further inside, gazing around warily. It occurs to me that I should have brought a knife or mace or something with me.

I approach one of the whiteboards and stare up at it. It looks to be some sort of timeline, and sure enough, under the heading listed "Fire at Thornhill Lodge" is a list of events that includes "Alison – red coat – alive?"

I force myself to look away as I feel my heart rate increase. I'm not here to think about Alison. Actually, I don't think I _can_ think about Alison. And the fact that I haven't heard from anyone regarding what happened last night is making me increasingly nervous.

I try to clear my head and focus on why I'm really here: To find out who "A" is. I walk slowly around the room, scouring each of the whiteboards for information. It seems like there's information on every person in Rosewood packed into the timeline, but I try not to cross anyone off the suspect list. After all, if "A" was smart, he would include details about himself in his lair, to throw everyone off his trail.

I lose track of time as I study the boards and the information crowding the walls. I avoid the computers altogether – I'm not stupid enough to think that I have even the slightest chance of cracking the security. There's tons of info about me in here – including all of the illegal things I did as "A." I resist the urge to rip it all up. I have to leave everything in place.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear the echoing footsteps until they must already be halfway up the stairs. I freeze, an unclear picture of someone in a black hoodie that very well might be me clutched in my hand.

Someone's coming.

Spinning around, my vision blurring with terror, I shove the photo back up on the wall and scan the room frantically for a place to hide. The footsteps slow to a stop just outside the door, and all too soon, the knob begins to turn.

I clap my hand over my mouth to hold in a scream. My eyes land on the wardrobe, and I run toward it, leaping inside and backing up until my back connects with the opposite end. Hoping I'm completely hidden by the row of suits, I pull the door partially closed, like it was before, just as the door to the room slams open.

I can only see a sliver of the room through the crack in the wardrobe doors, but I hear the male voice loud and clear. _"A's"_ voice. And he sounds angry. "Who's in here?" he shouts, and I close my eyes, trying not to breathe. There's something very familiar about that voice, but it's slightly distorted, echoing in the small, tight wardrobe, and I can't quite figure it out. "Who picked the lock?"

I nearly gasp. _Crap._ The bobby pin. I must have left it stuck in the keyhole. I press both hands over my mouth, terrified of making a sound. I am alone in a room with "A." If I were to push the wardrobe open even an inch, I would be looking right at him. But I don't dare move a muscle. Finding out who this mysterious stalker is seems much less important than my life.

"I know someone's in here!" the person yells, and I am once again struck by how familiar his voice sounds. I shift slightly, as much as I dare without scratching against one of the suits. But I can't see a thing.

I hear the footsteps walking around the room, the echo beginning to give me a headache. They seem to be growing fainter, and then, all of a sudden, everything is silent.

I let out a silent breath. Maybe he'll eventually give up, realize that no one's here. Maybe he'll leave, and I can slip out unnoticed. I listen hard, and hear nothing. Hey. Maybe he _already_ left.

And then the doors to the wardrobe fly open.

I let out a yelp before I can stop myself, but it's too late. Hands reach out and push the suits aside, and in that moment, I come face to face with "A."

I gasp out loud, so shocked that I reel back, my head smacking against the wood. "Mr. Fitz?"

...

 **Thanks for reading, and remember to review! The next chapter is a direct continuation of this one.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Five reviews means a fast update, yay! Thanks to everyone who left feedback. Mr Tea The Dino, that is a very good point. I think part of the reason why Viola keeps making these discoveries is because I don't just want her to always be with the other girls when they find something...that would get a little boring. And anyway, the Liars are still making the same discoveries that they do in the show - they're just not telling Viola about them! But you're totally right, especially in the last few chapters with Alison, Ezra, etc. That does lessen in the next few chapters, through. Please review and let me know what you think - the next chapter is one of my favorites.**

Chapter 35

I stare into the young face of the twelfth grade English teacher. He is looking right back at me, anger and surprise written all over his face. There's something else there, too, but not quite recognition. Like he's seen me before but doesn't quite remember who I am.

Figures. I've never had him as a teacher, what with him coming and going so often – due to his scandalous, on and off relationship with Aria, I'm sure – but he was my study hall supervisor last year. I shudder at the thought.

"What the hell?" he asks, obviously caught off guard, and I take that opportunity to duck under his arm and push my way out of the wardrobe. The path to the door is completely clear, and I make a run for it.

But I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Mr. Fitz reaches out, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me back. I stumble toward him, glancing up in pure terror, my heart beating a mile a minute. Our eyes meet once again, and this time, his light up in sudden recognition.

"Viola?" he says, his hand still keeping a strong grip on my arm. "Viola Vanderwaal?" Without releasing his grip, he glances over at the whiteboard containing my yearbook photo.

"Mr. Fitz," I gasp out again, because I'm still trying to wrap my head around the thought of an actual _teacher at my school_ being the dark-clad figure who's tormented me and others for months.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice softening slightly. He releases my arm and reaches up to pull the baseball cap off of his head. I glance toward the door, considering bolting toward it again, but ultimately decide against it. He could easily grab me again, or could probably outrun me if he had to.

I can't think of a good answer to his question. "I – don't hurt me," I blurt out, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. "Please."

Mr. Fitz – No. Right now, he's not Mr. Fitz, the young, cute, jovial English teacher. Right now I can only think of him as Ezra – holds up his hands, palms facing me. "I'm not going to hurt you."

That doesn't particularly sound like something that "A" would say, but what do I know? Everything about this situation is totally crazy. Not for the first time, I feel like I'm in way over my head.

"You're 'A,'" I say plainly, just stating the facts. All at once, Aria's face appears in my mind. This is like Toby's betrayal all over again, except this time I'm on the other side of the reveal.

Ezra's expression changes slightly, but I can't figure it out. "You're 'A,'" I say again, yelling now, and suddenly realize the peril of the situation I'm in. In a room, behind a closed door, with "A."

I need to get out of here.

I focus my eyes on a point on the opposing wall, beside his head. I force a shocked expression on my face. He takes notice immediately and whirls around to see what I'm looking at.

But there's nothing there, obviously. Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, I bolt for the door, halfway there by the time he realizes that he's been tricked. "Viola! Wait!" he yells, but I've already thrown the door open. I take the stairs two at a time, clutching at the hand rail to make sure that I don't plummet all the way down, and pound down the street, breathing hard.

I get to my car and fling open the door. It's only when I'm safely inside with the doors locked that I force myself to calm down. There's no way I can drive in this condition.

I glance through the rear window, relieved to see that Ezra hasn't tried to follow me. But even if he did, now I'm the one with the advantage.

My chest rising and falling with each gasping breath, I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes. I just found out who "A" is.

Ezra Fitz is "A."

I almost can't believe it, and I saw it with my own eyes. Of course, I've always known that he is a less than stellar person, what with continuing a relationship with a student despite the both moral and legal repercussions, and all. But never in my wildest dreams had I considered this.

I try and picture Mr. Fitz – though I have a feeling he'll always be Ezra to me now – wearing that black hoodie, sending the rest of the team orders and sneaking around Rosewood, stalking and spying on all of us.

It must have been easy for him to collect so many secrets. I'm not exactly sure what private records teachers are privy to, but I'm sure he already knew a lot of our personal information before he even took over the game.

Once again, Aria fills my mind. I feel sick. Finding out that Alison is alive was one thing. But this…this isn't a secret that I can keep. I have to tell the other girls what I know, and I have to do it immediately.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, finally feeling calm enough to put the car in drive and pull onto the street, headed for Rosewood. I'll tell them tomorrow before school, I decide. And I'll try and get Spencer, Hanna, and Emily alone if I can, break the news to them first. It'll probably be easier for Aria to hear this from her best friends rather than from me.

Satisfied with my plan, a feeling of actual relief begins to replace the terror and dread. I know who "A" is. I really, truly do. And now that I know, I can put an end to this, once and for all. I can tell my parents, I can tell the police, I can make sure that Ezra Fitz exchanges his black hoodie for an orange jumpsuit.

But first, I have to tell the other girls. They're an even bigger part of all of this than I am. I won't do anything without talking to them first.

My phone chimes a few minutes later, and I wait until I'm stopped at the next traffic light to reach for it. Hopefully it's one of the girls, finally ready to tell me about last night. Maybe I can even tell them that I saw Alison yesterday. Then I'll really be free of secrets.

I think of the memory that just came back to me. Well. Maybe not _completely_ free of secrets.

I open the text, expecting to see Spencer's name pop up, or Hanna's, maybe.

But instead, the words "Blocked Number" glow up at me.

My heart sinks. But I should have known. Of course "A" – _Ezra –_ isn't going to just completely ignore the fact that I caught him red-handed. I'm going to pay for this, I'm sure of it.

I hold my breath, my eyes sliding down to read the message.

 _Shocking, isn't it? Just remember what happens to snitches. –A_

 _..._

 **Let me know what you think! I'm not quite sure how to give a summary of the next chapter, so I'm going to leave you with a little snippet from it instead: _"I feel my shoulders droop in disappointment, sure that she's going to roll her eyes and tell me that I'm ridiculous, that I must be lying or up to some trick."_ Who do you think Viola's talking to?**


	36. Chapter 36

**Thanks to Fun With Typing, RHatch89, karma3825, nick2951, and Pinkpoodle8 for reviewing! I hope you all enjoy this chapter...I was planning on waiting until tomorrow to upload it, but I'm so excited for you guys to read it that I bumped it to today! Let me know what you think.**

Chapter 36

It's not until a few days later that I finally manage to work up the courage to tell the other girls what I know.

I know it's terrible. I should have sent them all a text on my way back from Ravenswood, held a meeting as soon as possible and told them, oh, what is just possibly the biggest thing to ever happen. I feel terrible for keeping this secret for longer than even a few hours.

And yet something has kept me from telling them. Part of it might be the "A" message I got right after the reveal. There's no way around it – it was definitely a threat.

But mostly I'm just afraid of their reactions. They clearly still don't trust me, despite inviting me along on their trip to Ravenswood a few days ago, when we first discovered the lair. There's a good chance they wouldn't believe me, would think that I'm just trying to freak them out, or even that I'm still working for "A" alongside my sister.

Especially Aria.

In the end, it was my thoughts of her dating Ezra – or maybe not, I'm usually pretty unsure of their complicated relationship status – that snapped me out of my crazy line of thinking. I need to tell her the truth before something terrible happens.

For the first time in three days, I don't feel anxious as I stand at my locker, glancing around as I wait for the four girls to appear, inevitably traveling in a pack, as always. Lately I've spent all of my time in the hallways darting from class to class with my head down, rushing into the bathroom or around a corner every time Ezra comes into view.

My biggest relief is that he's not one of my teachers. I don't think I could handle being taught how to interpret English literature by "A."

I catch sight of Spencer coming down the hallway. My stomach jumps with nerves, and I take a deep breath before plunging into the crowd of students and barreling toward her, sure that the others must not be far behind.

"Spencer!" I call, and she turns just as I rush up to her. The first thing I notice is that, amazingly, she's alone. Of course. The one time I want to talk to all of them, they're not together.

The second thing I notice is how awful she looks. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she hasn't slept in days. Her arms are folded across her chest, and she looks a little twitchy, almost like she can't focus on me.

"I need to talk to you," I go on when she doesn't greet me.

"Viola, now's not really a good – "

"No." The word comes out harsher than I expected, but I continue, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the bathroom. I lock the door behind us before she can leave – finally, the lock, which I always thought was ridiculous, can come in handy.

"I really have to go," Spencer mutters, glancing at herself in the mirror and quickly averting her eyes.

"No," I say again, leaning back against the sink closest to the door. "This is important. I wanted to talk to all four of you, but this can't wait. Spencer…" I take a deep breath and let the words spill out before I can rethink this. "Ezra is 'A.'"

For a moment, she stares at me, unblinking. I feel my shoulders droop in disappointment, sure that's she's going to roll her eyes and tell me that I'm ridiculous, that I must be lying or up to some trick.

Then she bursts into almost uncontrollable laughter, her hand flying to her mouth.

My jaw drops at her reaction. "What?" I demand when she doesn't stop, almost like she _can't_ stop. I watch her as she tries to get her laughter under control, growing more concerned. There is definitely something going on with Spencer, and as soon as we sort out this whole Ezra mess, I'm going to find out what it is.

"Oh my god," she gasps finally, shaking her head and pressing a hand to her temple. "This is great. This is just _fantastic._ "

There is a definite edge of sarcasm to her voice that isn't lost on me, but I'm having trouble comprehending this. Completely perplexed, I step closer to her. "I really don't get what's so funny about this," I complain, crossing my arms. For days, I've sat on this huge secret, debating when and where to tell them, and _this_ is the reaction I get?

"I'm sorry," Spencer says, letting out another quick burst of laughter. "But seriously? You couldn't have told me this any sooner?"

My confusion over her attitude is quickly dissolving into annoyance. "I just found out a couple days ago," I insist. "I've been freaking out about it ever since. It's not so easy to spill a secret like this, you know. But I swear." I hear my voice getting higher as I feel my desperation increase. She has to believe me. She _has_ to. " _Ezra is 'A.'_ "

Spencer turns away from me, resting her elbows on the edges of the sink and her head in her hands. "I know!" she groans, her voice muffled, and I freeze.

"What? You _do?_ " This is not going the way I thought it would.

"Ezra is Board Shorts," she confirms. I have no idea what that means, though I'm sure it has something to do with "A."

I choose not to ask about that, saying only, invigorated now that someone else is on my side, "Then come on! Let's go tell the other girls, right now. Then we can figure out a plan to – "

"I already told them," Spencer says, straightening up and facing me again. I'm shocked to realize that her red-rimmed eyes are shiny with tears. "Yesterday night."

I'm beginning to put the pieces together, going off of her tone and expression. "And they didn't believe you?" I say slowly.

She presses the bridge of her nose between two fingers, closing her eyes. "What do you think?" Her voice comes out quiet and hurt, and when she opens her eyes, a tear escapes down her cheek.

I stare at her for a long moment, my concern growing. I have no idea what evidence Spencer found, or what she told the other girls, but I'm beginning to get an idea of why they found her story hard to believe. "Spencer…" I reach out, placing my hand on her arm. "Are you…are you doing okay?"

"God!" she cries out, jerking away from me, and I jump, startled. I have never seen her so jittery and emotional, not even last month, right before she was institutionalized. I'm getting more worried every second. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because," I answer slowly, folding my arms instead of reaching out to her again, "you look…well, you look kind of like you're doing drugs or something." I laugh, meaning this as a joke, but the smile fades as her face crumbles into tears. "Oh my god," I murmur, my eyes widening. "You're – you _are,_ aren't you?"

Spencer meets my eyes, and for a second it looks like she's actually about to confide in me. But then the moment passes, and she tears her eyes away, turning away from me. "Viola, I already have half the town on my back. I don't need you acting like my mother, too."  
I shake my head, brushing my hair back and choosing my next words carefully. "Okay. Whatever. The point is, I believe you. Ezra really is 'A.' I went back to the lair the day after we found it, and he…caught me."

"Then why don't you try telling them that?" Spencer says, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who she's talking about: The other girls. "They're through listening to me."

Now it's my turn to bark out a laugh, totally out of my control. I clap my hand over my mouth, embarrassed. "You think they'd believe me and not you? It seems like they've made up their minds. And anyway, you guys would all probably assume that Mona and I are still his little lackeys, anyway."

I'm wondering if she'll support this, and hoping that she argues, but she does neither, walking over and unlocking the door. "I've gotta get to class," she mumbles, wiping a hand across her face. "I'll…I'll just – I'll just talk to you later, okay?"

"Wait!" I cry, unable to believe that she's not even willing to work with me, to combine our knowledge to prove to the others that Ezra really is up to no good, but she's gone, rushing down the hallway with her head down.

I push out of the bathroom and stare after her. There is no doubt in my mind now. Spencer is definitely taking something, judging by that conversation alone. And I know for a fact that unless the other girls somehow come around and start believing her, I have no chance of convincing them.

…

It's lunchtime, but I'm not hungry in the slightest. In fact, I can't really remember the last time that I actually had the desire to eat when lunch rolled around. So instead I've taken to just wandering around the school and the quad, avoiding whoever I'm most concerned about on any particular day and thinking.

Today I'm thinking about Spencer, and what's going on with her. I'm thinking about Mona and the memory that just resurfaced, while at the same time trying not to. But most of all, I'm thinking about Aria, and how horrible it's going to be when she realizes that her secret boyfriend is actually our relentless tormentor.

I round the corner near the quad, taking in a breath of fresh air, when I spot Aria standing a few yards away. She's facing perpendicular to me, so I can only see one side of her face, but she looks shocked.

Then I turn my head in the direction that she's looking, and I see why. Both of our siblings, my older sister and her younger brother, are standing close together a few feet away, gazing at each other with their hands intertwined.

I roll my eyes and walk over, all thoughts of Ezra temporarily out of my mind, for once. "They talked on the phone until almost one last night," I call out quietly, and Aria spins around, her eyes widening. "It was super annoying." This is true, and also probably the real reason why I couldn't fall asleep last night. But this has been the last thing on my mind amidst everything else.

"I – I don't…I didn't – " she stammers, clearly having trouble comprehending this. "I didn't know they were…"

"Seeing each other?" I finish, raising my eyebrows. "Just for a couple days, I think. Since that party that Mike threw? Mona came back from your house all giggly and dreamy and weird, and now I guess they're in love or something."

Aria looks a little like she's going to throw up. "Do you know anything else about this?" she asks, her voice filled with suspicion.

I shake my head and hold out my hands. "No. I've just never seen her like this. It's kind of freaking me out."

But she doesn't look convinced. "There's something going on with this."

I can't help but smile, amused. "What on Earth could Mona possibly gain from dating Mike?"

Aria stares hard at me for a moment, her eyes fixed firmly on mine. "Would _you_ date a guy two years younger than you?"  
I open my mouth to say yes, but hesitate, thinking this through. Honestly, most of the boys in my own grade act like third graders. Let alone freshmen… "Um…"

"Exactly."

I feel like we're reaching the end of this conversation, and all at once Ezra pops back into my head, the look on his face when he opened the wardrobe and caught me. "Aria," I blurt, taking hold of her arm.

She turns back to me, frowning. "Yeah?"

And suddenly I can't do it. Every bit of confidence floods right out of me, and my arm falls back to my side, my mouth hanging open. I can't tell her now, not here with all these people around, not without her friends to help her through it. Telling her now would crush her.

So I take a deep breath and say, "Nothing." Then I turn and walk away before she can respond.

…

I'm lying on my bed later that afternoon, on top of the comforter, lost in thought. I thought about driving to Ravenswood after school, to break back into the lair and find definite proof that Ezra's "A," dangerous or not. But something tells me that I wouldn't find it if I did, not after I broke in. "A" doesn't take chances. Odds are, that apartment has been long cleared out.

My cell phone chimes with a text, breaking me out of my daze. I consider not even looking, dreading another text from Ezra. I don't think I can handle another cryptic threat right now.

But my curiosity wins out and I scoop the phone off of my nightstand, relieved when Emily's name pops up on the screen.

 _Spencer told us what you said. We believe you – we have a plan. Meet at the zoo in half an hour._

The zoo? I bolt upright, a combination of relief and anxiety flooding through me. I have no idea what this plan could possibly be – something to prove that Ezra really is "A," obviously, but what do lions and tigers and bears have to do with this?

But I'll do anything to end this once and for all, so I swing my legs off of the bed and pull on my boots. Hopefully the hardest part of this will be convincing my mother why I suddenly need to go to the zoo after showing no interest in years.

...

 **Just more confirmation that I love scenes between Spencer and Viola. Probably because Spence is my favorite Liar. Next, Viola accompanies Hanna and Emily on their mission to bring down Ezra.**


	37. Chapter 37

**I hope you all had a spooky Halloween! I missed some of my regular reviewers last chapter, but thanks to RHatch89, karma3825, nick2951, and Guest for reviewing! Please let me know what you think.**

Chapter 37

Emily and Hanna are waiting by the entrance when I pull into the parking lot. I hurry to join them, eager for details about the plan. "Okay, what's going on? Where's Spencer?" I ask before I've even stopped walking.

"She's meeting us here," Emily replies, exchanging a nod with Hanna. I know immediately what it's about – how much should they tell me? "We found Ali's journal in 'A's' lair. One of the stories mentioned a place called Ambrose Pavilion."

"Ambrose?" I repeat, the name ringing a bell. "Isn't that a place here in the zoo?"

"Exactly," Hanna says with a shrug. "We set up a phone call that Ezra would overhear, about meeting Alison there. We figure that if he's really 'A,' he'll be there, too."

I raise my eyebrows, impressed. This plan is actually pretty smart. Almost something I could see my sister cooking up. But I push that thought away, that horrible memory coming back to me.

One crisis at a time.

We head for the zoo entrance and hand the ticket seller our money to be let in. Emily checks her phone and says, once we're out of the man's earshot, "We have less than an hour before closing."

"Here, take this," I say, handing her a map of the zoo that I took from the ticket stand. "Where's the pavilion?"

"Okay," Emily sighs, unfolding it and holding it out for us all to see. "Ambrose Pavilion," she reads, pointing to where it's marked on the map. "According to this, it should be right here."

I lean over her shoulder, scanning the map. She's right, I realize. "Ambrose Pavilion" is marked basically right where we're standing.

Hanna and I exchange a confused glance, but it's Emily who finally notices something. "Over there," she says, taking off, and I follow, only realizing after a few seconds that Hanna is not with us.

"Come on!" I call, turning back and gesturing for her to follow us to the building a few feet away, marked not just "Ambrose Pavilion," but "Ambrose _Reptile_ Pavilion."

Hanna looks a little nauseous, and I understand why before she even starts speaking. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't. Just looking at that sign gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Emily smiles, but I can see the impatience in her eyes. "You'll be fine. They're all behind glass."

"Yeah, it's not like the snakes are free to slither around," I add, trying to be helpful, but Hanna shudders.

"Hanna, come on," Emily says, elbowing me and walking over, taking Hanna by the arm. "There's nothing to be scared of."

"I was just kidding," I yelp, rushing after them and following them into the building. And I have to admit – the realization that the pavilion is actually a reptile house is making my skin crawl a little, too.

We walk inside, and all light disappears as soon as the door shuts behind me. It's completely dark in the reptile house, the only light coming from the glow of the tanks containing snakes, frogs, lizards, and I don't even want to know what else. A smooth male voiceover blares through speakers across the winding room, describing the various exhibits.

"God," Hanna exclaims as we stop behind two little boys who are reveling over a huge black snake that is only succeeding in giving me the creeps. "Only Ali would think it's sexy to make out in front of a bunch of reptiles."

I smirk, watching the snake raise his head and blink at us. "Hey, at least she wasn't making out _with_ the reptiles."

"Come on," Emily says sharply, obviously not amused by my joke. We follow her across the room, dodging families and strollers until we find a secluded area. Emily pulls out a paper takeout bag from the Brew. I don't want to take the time to ask, but I assume there's something of Ali's in there, something that "A" wants.

That Ezra wants.

"Okay, can you just toss that thing so we can get out of here?" Hanna says, crossing her arms uncomfortably.

"No!" Emily replies, frowning. "We have to wait for Spencer to get into position."

I scowl and glance away, sick of being left out of the details of the plans. But I guess I can't complain – at least they trusted me enough to include me at all. Baby steps.

"Where is she?" Hanna complains, voicing what I'm sure we were all thinking. I turn in a circle, glancing around the entire room. Aside from a few kids running into the gift shop, and a worker pointing out a snake, the pavilion is empty.

Emily checks her phone, and the anxious look on her face makes my stomach sink. "I don't know," she says quietly, her voice tinged with worry. "She should have been here by now."

"She seemed really weird when I talked to her," I say quietly, my voice practically a whisper. "Do you guys think she really is…"

"Speeding?" Hanna finishes. "Yeah. Ezra found her file at school and gave it to Aria. She was taking ADHD meds a few years ago."

If I hadn't talked to a very unhinged Spencer just yesterday, I would take that as more proof that Ezra is "A" rather than proof that Spencer really is on drugs. I shake my head, grimacing. "God."

A heavy silence falls over us at that point, filled with concern for Spencer on all of our parts, plus the dark realization on mine. The quiet is broken only when Hanna walks over, inspecting one of the exhibits, only to scream and leap back when a snake hisses, jumping out at her. I can't help but laugh.

But forty-five minutes later, the last thing any of us feel like doing is laughing. "The zoo is closing in five minutes," a male voice announces through the loudspeaker, and I feel like screaming in protest. The zoo can't close. Spencer isn't even _here_ yet. The plan is all falling apart, and I don't know whether to be more angry or concerned.

"This was Spencer's plan," Emily says worriedly, checking her phone for what seems like the thousandth time. "She wouldn't have gotten the time wrong."

"There's Spencer," Hanna declares, standing on tiptoe to point out a girl entering through the door across the room. With disheveled hair and her head cast downward, she sure looks like Spencer.

"Finally," Emily breathes, nudging my arm. "Let's move."

Since I don't know the details, all I can do is follow them through the room. Emily walks over to an open, empty exhibit and leans the takeout bag against a small tree that stands beside a skull of some huge reptile.

We walk over to the other side of the exhibit, peering through a tank at Spencer, who is standing on the other side of the room. My phone chimes and I grab it, glancing down at the incoming text from Mona: _Where are you?_

I wince and switch my phone to silent, shoving it back in the pocket of my jacket. I wonder how she would react if she found out what I'm doing right now, that I'm helping these girls. That they've actually started to _trust_ me.

I don't like that train of thought, so I tune back into the present just as Hanna whispers, "Why isn't Spencer doing anything?"

I stand up taller, peering through the glass. She's right. Spencer's standing motionless, staring downwards, her shoulders curved in. Emily shakes her head and answers, "She'll make her move when she thinks 'A's' here."

" 'A' better hurry up," I hiss, folding my arms. "I'm definitely not spending the night with the snakes."

Hanna glances over at us, her brow wrinkling. "And you think it's gonna be Ezra who shows up?"

Emily leans closer to the glass, her nose nearly pressing against it. "I guess we'll find out soon."

I check my watch. "Soon" better mean in the next three minutes.

Spencer suddenly moves, walking over to the bag propped against the tree, and all three of us jump. "When Spencer gives us the signal," Emily whispers, "we'll double back."

I do not know what that means but nod anyway, only hoping that whatever is next in the plan doesn't involve all of us splitting up.

"God, you guys," a voice cries from behind us, and we whirl around in unison. My mouth falls open as Spencer runs up, pulling a blond wig on over her hair. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Help me get this on and then I can get in my position."

"What the hell?" I gasp, glancing over my shoulder at the other girl. But she's gone.

I exchange a frantic glance with Emily, and run with her and Hanna around the tank, over to the opposing door, where a flash of shadow reveals that whoever the other girl is, is now leaving.

I shoot a glance over at the exhibit where we left the bait as I run past. Sure enough, it's gone. I'm still not sure what's in there, but judging by the looks on the others' faces, it's something important. I feel my stomach clench in fear as we dash for the door.

Spencer somehow gets there first and pushes hard, but it doesn't budge. "Dammit!"

"What?" I gasp, throwing my whole weight against it. "How is it locked, that girl just went through!"

"She was just here!" Hanna agrees, frantically brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Who?" Spencer cries, glancing between us.

Before any of us can answer, the lights go out, bathing the reptile house in total darkness. I suppress a scream. The only thing worse than being in a room filled with snakes, in my opinion, is being in a room filled with snakes _in the dark._

Lights begin flashing in random exhibits, and Emily is already on the move, grabbing Hanna's arm with one hand and mine with the other. "Let's get out of here!" she yells, pulling us along with her.

We run across the pavilion, back to the door we came in through. But before we can reach it, the loudspeaker crackles, and the same voiceover rings out, stating facts about the black mamba snake. Except this time, no little boys pushed the button.

Another exhibit's information voiceover crackles to life and I whirl around in the direction of the new sound, just in time to see that same blond-haired girl pass by, her face covered by shadows. I gasp, jumping back behind Emily in fear.

Is Ezra here? Is he making all of this happen? If he is, who is that girl?

Lights continue to flicker on and off, droning, automated voices blaring from every direction. I feel a panic attack coming on as I turn all around, pressing myself back against the wall and keeping a firm grip on Hanna's arm.

Emily starts to run for the door, and we follow, pounding on it hard. Then she turns, suddenly rushing in a different direction, so I follow blindly, confused and alarmed until I realize what she spotted.

The bag.

It's laying on the floor, and Emily runs right for it, stooping down to grab it just as Spencer screams, "No, Emily, don't!"

It does look suspiciously like a trap, I decide, and I am proved to be correct when, the moment she makes contact with the bag, a gloved hand shoots out, grabbing her by the arm.

I gasp and look up, fully expecting Ezra to be staring back at us, but it's only the pavilion worker who let us in earlier. "Zoo's closed to the general public," he tells us, his voice gravelly. He probably would have sounded threatening in any other situation, but I am so relieved that I suddenly have to fight the urge to throw my arms around him. "You gotta leave."

"Sorry," Emily breathes, her eyes wide with fear.

"We got locked in," Spencer covers quickly, her breathing shallow. "We're going now."

Aware that he's still watching us, I follow the older girls out the suddenly-unlocked door, breathing hard to slow my heart. It's dark as we exit the zoo, no one talking. Along with the terror of what just happened, the feeling of disappointment is almost palpable.

As far as I could tell, it was a good plan. But it still failed. We're no closer to being able to prove to Aria that Ezra is "A" than we were yesterday.

At least the other girls believe Spencer and me, I tell myself as I say a quick and quiet goodbye, climbing into my car. Somehow we'll just have to convince Aria another way.

I sit for a moment before starting the car, unable to shake the image of that girl in the pavilion. I hadn't gotten a good look at her, but she seemed pretty small. And her hair – or had it been a wig? – had concealed her face completely.

For some reason, I can't get the idea out of my head that the girl was Mona, working with Ezra to distract us. I want to believe that she's not working with "A" anymore, I really do, but after what I remembered a few days ago, it's getting harder and harder to think of my sister as totally innocent, as justified as that whack may have been.

I pull out my phone and stare at her text for a moment, an idea forming. Opening the camera on the phone, I hold it out and grin, snapping a picture of myself in the car. I send it to her, with the message, _Home in five. Where are you?_

I wait with bated breath. I'm hoping she'll send me a picture in return, and a minute later I'm proved right. I look carefully, able to make out the light green wall of her bedroom in the corner. _Home. Thinking we could work on homework together?_

I smile and breathe a sigh of relief, setting down my phone. That girl had been in the reptile house only minutes ago. There's no way that Mona could have somehow gotten back home in such a short amount of time, "hyper reality" or not.

At least I can cross my sister off the list for this particular event.

In somewhat lighter spirits, I open the windows as I drive home, letting in the cool November air. I glance out the window as I pass the woods to my left, glancing up at the ski lift. It's rising, most likely the last ride of the night, and I look away to turn on the radio. The music begins to blare, and I raise the volume.

For a second, something echoes in the distance, coming from the direction of the lift. I almost think it sounds like a scream, but I shake my head, brushing that thought from my mind.

I must just be paranoid.

...

 **Thanks for reading! Next, Viola's good spirits sink when she realizes the true reason behind Ezra's lair...and just how much he managed to find out.**


	38. Chapter 38

**A big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Fun With Typing, I feel you - started out with nearly 200 pieces and still had to make a run for more not even halfway through the night! It was the most insane trick or treating I've seen in a long time. Anyway, this is the chapter where things start to get more exciting as we finish up with season four stuff and catapult right into season five, starting with the next chapter. Not sure if anyone's been getting bored with the last few chapters or so, but I promise, from here on out, the excitement is back! This is one of my favorite chapters, so please review fast and let me know what you think! Five reviews and I'll put up the next chapter quickly.**

Chapter 38

My chest feels considerably lighter the next day. I can almost smile as I put my books away in my locker before lunch.

Ezra's gone. Well, not _gone,_ but not in school. I peeked into his classroom on my way to the bathroom earlier today, only to find a substitute in his place. And I heard later that he's taken a leave of absence due to a family emergency.

Likely story. He probably realized that we're all on to him and skipped town. And if that's the case, then that must mean that the "A" game is finally over. I pull out my phone and glance at the last text I received, the one after I left Ezra's lair. It's crazy to think that I may never hear from "A" again. I feel lighter than I have in a long time, like a huge weight has been lifted off of my chest.

I really do smile now as I head out the doors and over to the quad, glancing around to find someone to sit with. But I don't get very far before I hear someone calling my name.

Hanna rushes up to me. "Hey," I say, noticing her nervous expression. "What's going on?"

"Have you seen Aria? Or heard from her?" she asks, her voice low.

I shake my head, glancing around to make sure that no one is listening. "No. Why? Did she finally believe you guys about Fitz – " I lower my voice. "About Fitz being 'A'?"

Her eyes widening, Hanna grabs my arm and pulls me over to a more secluded corner, right against the wall of the school. "We talked to her yesterday. She went to Ezra's cabin last night, when we were at the zoo. She found a manuscript."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" I fold my arms, staring at her in confusion. What does a manuscript have to do with being "A"?

Hanna shifts uncomfortably. "Ezra isn't 'A,'" she says quietly, and I feel my heart stop.

"No," I burst out before she can go on, refusing to believe this. "How can you say that? After that lair we found, and all that evidence – "

"He's not 'A,'" she repeats, and this time I let her keep speaking. "But he _has_ been stalking us. He's been writing a book all this time, since before Alison disappeared."

"That doesn't make any sense," I protest, my head spinning. "Why would Fitz want to write a book about you guys?"

"Not just us," Hanna says, gesturing to herself. "All of us. _Including_ Ali."

Instead of things getting more clear, I feel like the more she explains, I understand less and less. "What? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"  
She nods, her gaze serious. "Ezra knew Alison. He met her the summer she went missing. He's been writing a book about her, that's what all that stuff in Ravenswood was."

"Research," I fill in, slowly beginning to put the pieces together. "But if Ezra isn't 'A,' then he at least has to know _about_ 'A,' right?"

"I guess," Hanna says with a shrug. "You saw everything he had in that lair. It seems like he knew everything about us."

I can't control a shiver at the thought of a teacher at our school stalking us and knowing all of our secrets…all in the name of writing a book. It's almost _too_ ridiculous to believe.

"He's not 'A,'" I mumble, trying to come to terms with this. "He's just writing a freaking mystery novel."

"Aria was really upset last night, and she tried to confront Ezra this morning," Hanna goes on. "She went home after she found out that he's gone. I just tried to call her, but she didn't pick up."

"I haven't heard anything from her," I tell her, checking my phone just to be sure. "But I'm pretty sure she wouldn't call me over you guys."

Hanna glances back toward the school, and I spot Spencer and Emily through the window. "I've got to go," she says, heading for the door. "See you later."

"Let me know if you find her!" I call, moving to sit down at one of the empty tables in the quad. I rest my head in my hands, suppressing a groan.

We were _so close._ I really thought that we were about to end this whole thing for good, finally put a rest to "A's" crazy reign of terror. And now we're right back where we started.

I feel no closer to uncovering "A's" identity than I did back in September.

For the second time, I hear my name, and a moment later my sister sits down beside me. I am really not in the mood, but I pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment and say, "Hey."

"Hey," Mona replies, giving me a strange look. "What was up with Hanna?"

I scowl down at the table, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long sip as I figure out a response. I consider the truth, but ultimately decide against it once I realize that I'm more irritated than anything. "What?" I snap, setting the bottle down so hard that a bit of water sloshes out the top. "I can't talk to people without your approval?"

"You can talk to whoever you want," she says, smiling sweetly. I press my hand to my stomach, wondering if throwing up will put an end to this conversation. "She just looked upset, that's all."

I roll my eyes, not buying this. "Come on. Quit acting like you don't know exactly what's going on."

"Why do you always think that I know everything?"

I raise my eyebrows, leaning forward on the table. "Because you're Mona."

She smiles again, not responding to this, and I reach down to scratch at my leg. As I do so, I catch sight of her purse, on the ground between us. It's partially open, revealing a small stack of papers sticking out, paper clipped together.

I straighten up, shifting my eyes back to my sister. She glances down at her purse and then at me, clearly realizing what I noticed. "What's that?" I ask, nodding downwards.

Mona glances down at her purse, as if this is the first time that she's noticing this. "Oh, nothing," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Just a paper for history."

I bend over and take another look at the stack of papers. That was a pretty weak lie, I decide with surprise. "Oh really?" I ask brightly. "Are most of your history papers twenty pages long?"  
We stare at each other for a long moment, in a stand-off. I finally make the first move, reaching my hand down in one quick movement. But she's fast, too, and grabs my wrist just as my fingers brush against the edge of the papers.

"Drop it, Viola," she snaps, pushing my hand away. "I promise you, you don't want to see what's on those pages."

I'm shocked by how easily she gave up on lying. "Oh, I definitely do now," I argue. "Come on, just tell me what it is and I swear I won't ask anything else."

Mona leans toward me, her eyes narrowing. I'm startled by her sudden intensity. "Let's just say," she says, her voice low, "that there are things written in those pages that could bring both of us down."

I shift away from her, nearly falling off of the bench. Suddenly anxious and even more curious than ever, I look away, thinking hard. I know I just said that I wouldn't try and get ahold of those papers again…but I'm not sure I'll be able to keep that promise. Especially if there's information about _me_ in them.

Pressing my lips together, I try and act casual as I wait for an opportunity to grab those papers. And when I glance up, only minutes later, to see Mike approaching, I have to suppress a smile. Finally things are looking in my favor.

"Hey," he says, putting a hand on Mona's back. I smile, not just out of politeness, waiting on the edge of my seat until she stands up to kiss him. Then I bend down, snatch the pages out of her purse and leap out of my seat with a grin.

"Thanks, sis!" I yell over my shoulder, clutching the papers to my chest as I bolt out of the quad and into the school, my bag bouncing against my side.

I don't stop running until I'm able to duck into the bathroom. I lock myself in a stall and lean against it, breathing hard and grinning.

She is going to kill me. In fact, I am probably going to wake up tomorrow in a different country, or maybe underwater. With amnesia.

A little less certain of my decision to steal whatever this is, I hesitate, weighing it in my hands. I have no idea what I'm about to read, only that it contains less-than-stellar information about me. Do I really want to know?

Yes. Yes I do.

I hold it out in front of me and realize immediately what I'm looking at. It's not a school paper. It's a manuscript.

Not wanting to sit down on the toilet, I lean against the wall of the stall and focus on the first page.

I scan my eyes over the words, planning to start at the top and read this whole thing if I have to, even if that means ditching the next two periods. But one line halfway down the page jumps out at me, and I feel like I was just electrocuted.

 _With one clandestine photograph, the team increased to three. And the newest member? Mona's own little sister._

I gasp, my grip loosening, and half the pages in my hand flutter to the ground. I stoop down, gathering them up before they can shift out of the stall. My hands are shaking so badly that it takes me a few minutes to get them all back into order.

I flip through the rest of the manuscript, or at least the part that I have, my name popping out at me every now and then. But _all_ of our names are sprinkled through this thing. It's a book about all of us, and the section that I have seems to be centered around the time that I was a member of the "A" team. Doing illegal things.

Oh, god.

It occurs to me as I scan paragraph after paragraph that I am not just reading any novel. I'm reading Ezra's novel.

My alarm increasing, I am just about to stop reading and get rid of these pages, even if that means flushing them down the toilet one by one. But I'm on the last page. I can't stop now.

 _A flash of red, barely visible through the dark trees. Behind her, a fire beginning to blaze. She turned toward the source of light, blond hair cascading out from under the blood red hood._

 _At first, her pale skin appeared to be made of porcelain, her eyes too blue to be real. But as she stepped into the light caused by the bright fire, it was revealed that the perfect face was not a mask._

 _It was really her. It was really Alison._

My hands fall limply to my sides, the last page of the chapter I'm holding wrinkling in my grip.

Ezra wasn't guessing that Alison is alive.

He knows.

...

 **Again, let me know what you think! Next, Viola's attempts to tell the girls what she's discovered prove to be in vain once she realizes that they've disappeared to New York. Also, tensions between the sisters finally erupt when Mona tries to enlist Viola into her plan to take down Alison.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, Fun With Typing, and Guest for reviewing. The dollhouse is going to become a major part of the plot very soon...that's all I'm going to say. This chapter is a long one, but please be sure to review. I'm getting nervous that as this story gets longer, people are no longer reading, and I hope that's not the case because things are about to get interesting. nick2951, I have a feeling you're not going to be a fan of this chapter, but don't worry! What happens next changes everything...for good.**

Chapter 39

 _"_ _Hi, this is Aria. Leave a message and I'll call you back!"_

I stifle a groan. "Hey, Aria, it's Viola… _again._ I really need to talk to you guys but no one's answering their phones…I guess you're still at the bridal show? Call me back as soon as you can. It's important."

I shove my phone into the pocket of my jeans and sigh, glancing up and down the street as if expecting the girls to appear in front of me. I suppose I could always go over to the DiLaurentis house, where a huge charity bridal fashion show is taking place, but I realize that even if I did, I don't have a ticket. I couldn't get in. And this isn't a conversation that I want to have in front of other people, anyway.

I check the time on my phone, frowning. It's nearly ten. The bridal show should be over by now. But maybe they're staying to help Mrs. DiLaurentis clean up.

Then I open my photos and begin flipping through the pictures that I took yesterday of the incriminating book pages, particularly the final one about Alison. After reading them in the bathroom, I'd snapped some pictures for evidence. I'd had a strange feeling that they would disappear before I could show the girls the actual pages.

And I was right. Even though I left them buried deep in one of my dresser drawers when I left for school this morning, they were gone when I got home. When Mona came home a few hours ago, she claimed that she hadn't taken them back, and she was in such a bad mood over something that I didn't push it.

I'm still in shock that Ezra knows for sure that Alison is alive. I guess I shouldn't be, though. He's not "A," but with all of his book research he might as well be. And I know by now that "A" knows everything.

Still, I think that this is information that the other girls definitely need to know. If only I could find them.

I catch sight of a dark figure across the street, walking in the opposite direction that I am. I can make out wavy brown hair and my heart leaps with hope that I'm looking at either Emily or Spencer.

I dart across the street and run up to the girl before she gets to the corner. "Hey!" I call, and to my surprise, it's Paige who turns to face me.

"Viola," she says somewhat flatly, and I wince. It's no secret that Paige and Mona don't necessarily like each other. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever make it out from behind my sister's shadow.

"Hey," I say again, as kindly as possible. "Have you heard from Emily? Or any of the other girls? I've been trying to contact them for hours but nobody's picking up."

Paige stares at me for a moment too long before she shakes her head. "Nope. Haven't heard a thing." She turns and begins walking away from me, quickly.

I jog after her, not giving in so easily. She clearly knows more than she's telling me. "Wait. Are you sure? I'm getting a little worried, I really need to talk to them."

Paige slows down but doesn't stop walking. Relieved, I slow my stride, no longer having to practically run to keep up with her. "Is everything okay?" she asks, but her tone doesn't match her words.

"Fine," I fib, biting my lip. "It's just…I need to tell them something."

Finally, she stops. "Something about Alison?"

I'm so shocked that I trip on the sidewalk, stumbling forward. She reaches out, grabbing my arm to steady me. "What do you mean?" I say once I regain my balance, my heart pounding. "What do you know about Alison?"

For a moment, Paige glances around, looking as if she's about to try and run. I'm so positive that she's not going to tell me anything that I actually jump when she bursts out, "Alison is alive, Viola."

I nod, and her brow furrows in confusion. "I know. Don't ask me how I know, but I know."

"And do you also know that Emily's been sending her money?"

I did not know that, but I am also not sure that I really believe it. To me, it seems like Paige knows a lot less than she thinks she does. Then again…I probably do as well. "Okay," I say slowly, taking another look around to make sure we're alone. "Yeah. Anyway, I really need to talk to them. Are you sure you have no idea where they are?"

Paige looks down the street nervously, in the direction of Emily's house. Then she says, "Fine. I talked to Emily about an hour ago. She was leaving her house with a bag, and she got into a car with Hanna, Spencer, and Aria."

So they're _not_ still at the bridal show. And, judging by the fact that they had bags, they're probably not even in Rosewood. "She didn't say where they were going?"

"No," Paige insists, and this time I really do believe her. In fact, she almost looks close to tears. "She didn't tell me. Something to do with Alison, I'd guess."

I note the bitterness in her tone and sigh. It doesn't look like I'm going to get any more information, from her or anyone else. "So where are you headed?" I ask, hoping to cheer her up.

But instead of smiling, she gives me a strange, confused look. "I'm stopping at home then heading over to the Brew," she says slowly.

I can't get past her expression, almost like she can't believe I asked. "Why the look?"

"I'm just surprised you didn't know," she admits, shaking her head. "Mona invited me."

"What?" I immediately pull out my phone, realizing with a start that it has blown up with texts and missed calls, all from my sister, each one telling me to come to the Brew with increasing annoyance.

"Crap," I mutter, ignoring Paige's alarmed look. "I've got to go. I guess I'll be seeing you soon, then?"

"What's this all about, Viola?" she asks, and I can only offer a shrug in response before taking off, literally running down the street to my house.

Five minutes later I'm walking into the Brew, not knowing what to expect. A crowd of people, maybe, or at least a group, especially considering it's after hours and it couldn't have been easy to get let in.

But only Mona and Lucas stand in the otherwise empty café, their eyes on the television. "What the hell, Mona?" I demand, the door slamming behind me. I hold out my phone. "I don't check my phone for five minutes and you basically have a stroke?"

"This is important," she snaps, and I freeze, my anger dissolving into anxiety. I recognize that low, dark tone of voice, and that paired with the black shirt and jacket that she's wearing instantly reminds me of being a member of the "A" team.

Suddenly wary, I cross my arms and glance up at the television, ignoring Lucas' nervous glance in my direction. My mouth drops open. Pictures of Emily, Hanna, Aria, and Spencer fill each corner of the screen, and in the very center…is Alison.

"Police have also widened their search for the four missing Rosewood teens, who they believe are in Philadelphia," the reporter's voice blares through the silent room, and his next words send a chill up my spine, "with Alison DiLaurentis. The youth went missing two years ago and is thought to have been brutally murdered."

I did not even know that the girls were missing, but I am now having a hard time breathing. Suddenly, my information about Ezra seems very insignificant. "They know she's alive," I breathe, my hand curling around the silver heart on the end of my necklace. I always knew that eventually word of Alison being alive would spread. I just never expected it to suddenly appear on the news.

Mona glances at me, then turns her focus on Lucas, who most likely knows a lot more about what's going on here than I do. "This changes everything," she says sharply, pulling out her phone.

I open my mouth to question this, but don't even know where to begin. Anyway, she's already holding the phone to her ear. "You need to stay on top of this," she says to whoever is on the other line. I strain my ears, but can't make out the voice through the phone. "We're mobilizing."

I lean back against one of the tables and say as she hangs up, "I don't see us going anywhere," mostly just to be annoying.

Mona ignores me, as usual, and turns to Lucas, who is still lurking by the doorway, peeking out the window with an anxious expression. "They're not in Philadelphia," she tells him. "They're in New York."

 _New York?_ I raise my eyebrows, trying to think of every possible reason for that trip. The only thing I can settle on is that they must have gone there to meet Alison. Maybe they're with her right now. Maybe they're fine, having a nice reunion, not even realizing how late it is or how worried their families must be.

I hope.

Lucas crosses his arms and turns away from the door, his eyes narrowing. But he looks more worried than angry. "You said there'd be more people here."

Mona frowns, like he's being ridiculous, but glances at the window anyway. "They're coming."

I jump up, unable to take being left in the dark anymore. "Will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?"

Lucas opens his mouth and I think for a moment that I'm actually going to get answers. But my sister shushes him with a piercing look. "You'll find out soon. With everyone else."

I grimace and flop down on one of the bar stools, crossing my arms. There is something strange in the atmosphere here, something serious and even…cold. I send a quick text to my mother, to tell her that I'm sleeping over at Macy's. Then I smile at Mona and say sweetly, "I hope you made up a really good story to tell Mom, because I did not cover for you."

Revenge is sweet, but it probably would have been sweeter if she looked even a little put-out by this.

The door to the Brew bursts open and I jump, twisting around on the stool just as what seems like a million people pour in, silent and frowning. They're all kids from my school, most of them seniors, and by the time they arrange themselves on the couches in the back of the room I realize that there's only about a dozen.

The three of us walk over to join them, and Lucas immediately goes to stand behind the full couch. From the way she's standing, facing the group, it's obvious that Mona is the leader of whatever's going on here. Unsettled, I move to join the others, more curious than ever as to what this is about, but she grabs my arm, pulling me back.

I glance over, expecting her to say something to me, or at least look nervous, but she's looking out at the others, almost expressionless. I fold my arms and sigh, staring at the ground until my sister speaks, her voice ringing out in the quiet room.

"Some of you may know each other, some of you may not. But I picked you because we all have one thing in common, and that's Alison DiLaurentis."

I blink, raising my eyes in surprise. That's what this is all about? Alison? I'm caught off-guard, but I really shouldn't be. Lately it seems like everything in my life has revolved around Alison, even more so than around "A."

I glance out at the small crowd sitting in front of us. No one looks particularly happy to be here. In fact, they all share the same expression, slightly uncomfortable, that I'm sure I'm also sporting. But Mona surges ahead, looking at each person in turn. "When Alison was here," she says slowly, "I wasn't Mona. I was Loser Mona. Who were you, Lucas?"

His eyes widen from his place behind the couch, and I wonder if he's going to protest, but then a calm frown replaces the surprise. "Hermie," he says, nearly spitting the word out.

I wince, remembering that nickname, and how it spread all the way down to the middle school, where most of the kids who called Lucas that terrible name didn't even know what it meant. Alison had power like even she didn't recognize.

"How about you, Paige?" Mona asks, nodding at the brown-haired girl standing off to the side. I hadn't even noticed her come in, and I raise my hand in a wave, which she doesn't return.

Paige falters, looking uncomfortable. _Pigskin,_ I realize, recognizing another widely used term that even the seventh and eighth graders referred to her as. Unlike "Hermie," I have no idea how that nickname originated, though I'm sure there's a story there. Alison had a story with everyone.

Mona crosses her arms, waiting for Paige to respond. "I can say it if you don't want to," she says finally, shrugging.

I feel something like a jolt of electricity down my spine, suddenly nauseated. I don't like this. "Mona, _don't,_ " I hiss, glancing over at Paige, but my sister cuts me off.

"She called you Pigskin."

Paige's eyes narrow then lower, and I frown down at my shoes as others begin sharing their own Alison-induced nicknames, as if invigorated by the first few confessions.

"I was Pus Face."

"I was Newt."

"Lez."

" _Whore._ "

I shift back and forth where I stand, in front of everyone. I don't like being up here, like I'm somehow sharing in the leadership of this group…this _army._ But I can't help the anger that grows every time someone new speaks up, announcing the nickname Alison bestowed on them, back in middle school or even freshman year. She really was terrible.

And it occurs to me, hitting me all at once like a train, that out of everyone here, I'm the odd man out.

"But you weren't those people," Paige bursts out, her face reddening. "That's just what she called you. Not who you are."

I am embarrassingly aware of the fact that I am the only person in the room who hasn't spoken. In the moment of silence that follows Paige's declaration, I take a breath and say, "Alison never called me a name. She never bullied me, or spread rumors. In fact…" I laugh a little, even though none of this is funny. "I never really knew Alison at all."

Everyone is staring at me, their eyes wide. Mona looks like she wants to murder me. I remind myself that this is her own fault for making me stand up here, and go on, "But that doesn't mean I support how she treated all of you. I knew what Alison did to people, even when I went to a different school than her. Her influence was unlimited, probably even more than she realized. But Paige is right, guys. We can't focus on the past." Smiling now, I gesture around. "Look at you guys now. You got through it – you _all_ got through it. Why should we let Alison DiLaurentis control us again?"

Lucas jumps in, nodding. "Sticks and stones, Mona."

"I'm not afraid of her anymore," Paige adds, her voice fierce, and I smile wider, though everyone else still looks mildly uncomfortable.

My sister glares at me and I shrink back, glad that I drove here myself, because I'm pretty sure I am not going to be offered a ride home. "Well, maybe you should be," she says, pacing back and forth in front of the group. "She's not even back yet, and she found a way to break up you and Emily. There's no way Ali's gonna let you guys be a couple."

This is news to me. I think back to Paige's tear-filled eyes when we were talking earlier tonight, and feel a surge of sympathy. This is probably the last thing she wanted to do tonight. Angry, on behalf of Paige and everyone else who was just forced to admit their old middle school nickname, I turn and snap out, "Cut the crap, Mona. Why are we here?"

"Yeah," Paige adds, standing and placing her hands on her hips. "Exactly what is it you want us to do?" Murmurs of agreement make their way through the rest of the group.

My sister looks unfazed. "I want us to stick together," she insists. "There's strength in numbers." I let out a breath. Okay. None of that sounds so bad, until she goes on. "The bigger we are, the harder she falls."

Paige looks just as disgusted as I feel. "I don't think I want to be a part of this," she murmurs, shaking her head, and heads for the door.

"I can't protect you if you're not with us," Mona calls after her.

I frown, feeling my hands start to shake. Suddenly I feel like I'm back in middle school, forming cliques and dealing with mean girls. I thought we were all past this. And I don't want to go back.

"You know what?" I say, stepping closer to Mona and looking down at her. "I'm out, too. I thought you worked passed how Ali treated you, but if you want to form some little army against her and stoop down to her level, be my guest." I turn for the door but glance back, aware of the eyes of every person in the room staring. Smiling, I add, "Let me know when you're coming home. I'll be sure to deactivate the alarm system."

I spin around before she can respond and storm toward the door after Paige, only to be knocked to the side when the door flies open and none other than Melissa Hastings bursts in, alarm written all over her face.

"We don't have much time," she says, her voice low and filled with apprehension.

I'm curious about this, I have to admit, considering Melissa is in her twenties and should probably not be hanging out with teenagers, but after the rant I just delivered, there's no way I can plop back down and pretend this is now all okay.

Paige, however, apparently feels differently. She pauses, watching Melissa carefully, then moves to take her place back on the couch.

I roll my eyes and push past the older Hastings sister, giving one last look to the group behind me before I shove open the door and let it swing shut behind me.

...

 **Again, let me know what you think! Next, the events following Alison's first day back at Rosewood cause Viola's loyalties to take a major turn.**


	40. Chapter 40

**Thanks to my four wonderful reviewers, as always, and also to the new people who have favorited and followed this story recently. I would love to hear from some of you, so please, please review or PM and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 40

My leg thumps up and down restlessly as I sit on the cold front steps, fiddling with my phone and already regretting the second cup of coffee that I had this morning.

But I figured that I would need it. Today isn't just another normal Monday, which is bad enough. Today is Alison's first day back at school.

I only know this because Hanna sent me a text last night, warning me. It's the first I've heard from any of the girls since they came back from New York, doing who-knows-what. They only came back to school themselves a few days ago, and I haven't gotten a chance to speak to any of them.

A dark green pickup truck turns onto my street, slowing down in front of my house, and I smile, getting to my feet and pulling my bag over my shoulder. Justin waves out the window, honking the horn.

I glance at my car, sitting in the driveway, as I walk over to the truck. On my way home from the mall yesterday, the power steering completely shut off. Thankfully I only had a few more turns until I got to my house, but after nearly crashing into a tree when I couldn't turn the wheel fast enough, I don't really feel like driving again until it's fixed.

So that was icing on the cake of a terrible week.

"Hey," Justin greets as I climb into the passenger seat, leaning over to hug him.

"Hey," I reply, smiling. "Thanks for the ride. Again."

"No problem," he says, easing the car back out onto the street. "Nobody got mugged this time, right?"

I force a laugh even though that's the last thing I feel like doing. Ever since I skipped out on the anti-Alison meeting, Mona has completely iced me out. This morning she sped off without saying a word to me, knowing full well that I didn't have a ride to school.

Thankfully I have the best boyfriend – we finally cemented our status yesterday, over pizza – in the world. "No one got mugged," I confirm after a moment, shaking my head. "My sister's just acting like a bitch." _And you're not acting much better,_ an annoying little voice in the back of my head taunts.

"Ouch," he groans, laughing, but his face quickly turns serious. "So I heard," he goes on, his voice lower. "About Alison being alive. It's been all over the news."

"Um, yeah," I say, drumming my fingers against my leg and trying to hide my surprise that even neighboring towns have heard the news. But I guess most towns don't have news like a dead girl suddenly reappearing, very much alive.

And then her mother being found, dead and buried.

I flinch involuntarily as this memory comes racing back to me. I'd almost forgotten, among all of my other problems. Right after the girls got back from New York, the DiLaurentis' new dog sniffed out something that was buried in the Hastings' backyard.

And that something was Jessica DiLaurentis.

I feel a surge of sadness for Alison and Jason, thinking of myself in their shoes, especially Alison's. She never got to say goodbye to her mother, I realize with a start. Mrs. DiLaurentis was dead by the time Ali came back to Rosewood.

"What's wrong?" Justin asks, glancing over at me as he pauses at a stop sign, my school coming into view. "You look a little pale."

I hesitate, wondering how much he knows. Mrs. D's death has been all over the Rosewood news stations lately, but I doubt that it's spread to Brookhaven yet, especially since he hasn't brought it up.

I don't think I can handle telling that story – it was hard enough just thinking about it – so I say the next best thing. "I'm fine…it's just that today's Alison's first day back at school. I'm a little nervous, that's all."

"Why are you nervous?" he asks, giving me a strange look. "Isn't she a year older than you?"  
 _And she's probably going to be in all sophomore classes,_ I think, remembering that she's missed over two years of school. "Yeah, she is, but you never knew Alison. She kind of made a lot of enemies before she went missing. I'm not sure that this is going to go so well."

We pull up in front of the school, and he leans over to kiss me. "I don't care about Alison," he says quietly once he pulls away. "I just hope you have a good day. Want me to pick you up, too?"  
I want him too, yes, but falter, already feeling like I've troubled him too much. I can't make him drive out of his way twice in one day. "No," I say with a sigh, shoving open the door. "I'll find a ride. Thanks."

Smiling, he waves and drives away, and I brace myself, turning toward the school. I immediately spot Spencer, Hanna, Aria, and Emily standing a little ways away from the front doors, glancing around nervously, obviously waiting for Alison. I wonder if she'll even show up – it might all be too much for her.

I scan the rest of the crowded area. Alison is nowhere in sight, but I notice my sister standing at the top of the steps, along with several other members of her…group? Army?

I square my shoulders and stand up tall, knowing what I have to do. I've known Mona my whole life, and even from a distance, I recognize the look of forced calmness on her face…she's nervous.

I try to look past what happened the other night, reminding myself of the torment that Alison put her through for nearly four years. Cruel nicknames, rumors, exclusion…

Taking in a breath, I hop up the front steps and walk over, pausing beside my sister. "Hey."

She glances over at me, her expression hardening. "Hello."

I shake that off and reach over, squeezing her arm. "I'll talk to you at lunch, okay?"

Mona doesn't smile, but the coldness of her gaze softens a little. She nods and turns away, back to scanning the swarm of students below.

I wait for a moment, then shrug and head inside. I don't need to see Alison's arrival. After all, I'm not fighting on either side of this war.

…

 _Hey. How'd the big first day go?_

 _Fine. Didn't really see her. Thanks again for the ride._

I set my phone on the table, facedown, and sit up straighter on the couch, trying to focus on my math notes. I have a test tomorrow that I have completely neglected to study for until now, and I refuse to be one of those girls who are constantly distracted by texting their boyfriend. My grades have already started to slip as it is.

I hear the door open and twist around to glance behind me. "Hey," I say as Mona slips inside, "where have you…" My voice trails off as soon as she turns toward me, revealing the angry red scratch on her cheek. "Whoa. What _happened?_ "

She doesn't respond, not looking at me as she starts up the stairs. I scramble off of the couch and rush after her, grabbing her arm. "Seriously. Who did that to you?"

She closes her eyes and whirls around. I take a step back. "I'll give you one guess," she says, her voice shaking.

For once, it doesn't take me more than a few seconds to put the pieces together. "Alison?" I ask, feeling my mouth drop open.

Mona reaches up to touch the cut, then crosses her arms. "I went to the church to drop something off for the clothing drive, and she just appeared out of nowhere, like she was _following_ me or something. I tried to talk to her, but she just… _attacked_ me."

I shake my head, a little suspicious of this. "I don't – "

"If you don't believe me," she interrupts, obviously noticing the hesitation in my voice, "just watch this." She holds out her phone and I take it just as a video starts playing.

It's angled upward, with Alison right in the center of the small screen. "You're scared because you know it's not gonna take me long to win over your army of losers," she's saying, her voice sharp. "I made you 'Loser Mona' once and you know I can do it again."

Then Alison reels her hand back and slaps my sister across the face.

I gape, my eyes widening in shock even as I become aware that there's something strange about this video, the way it's filmed. I can't put my finger on exactly what it is, but I can't shake the feeling that something is off.

Either way, there's no way to fake what I _did_ see. "Oh my god," I mutter, shaking my head. "I can't believe she actually slapped you. That's almost too cliché."

"I didn't believe for a second that Alison's changed," Mona says, setting down the phone and crossing her arms. "She's been trying to get people back on her side from the minute she's been back. Maybe this will make people realize that she's not the victim she's pretending to be."

I don't like the thought of her going around showing that video to everyone in school, but something else has piqued my interest. "Wait. What do you mean, she's not the victim?"

"Alison was never abducted, Viola," she snaps, rolling her eyes. "You really thought her story was true, being kidnapped for two years and conveniently escaping just a few weeks ago?"

I think about this for a moment, not answering. I don't know the details of the two years Alison was missing, only that she was apparently taken that Labor Day night by some man and only managed to get away a few weeks ago, when she jumped, blindfolded, out of his car. Until now, she'd been too afraid to come out of hiding, for fear that he'd find her again.

"No," I say slowly, because truthfully, her story had never seemed completely believable. But I guess I just chalked that up to not having all of the details. "Not really."

"Alison is just as manipulative as ever," Mona insists. "And she's not going to stop until she has the whole school eating out of the palm of her hand."

I sigh and frown, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the stairs. "Come on, I'll help you clean off your cut," I say, because it just occurred to me that I need to stop this conversation before it goes too far.

But I also realize, as I wet a paper towel at the sink, that all of my sympathy for Alison is gone. And I'm totally prepared to let her know that.

...

 **Uh oh. So Viola has officially changed sides. Next chapter, as she prepares to go and confront Alison, she recalls the memory of their first and only other confrontation. Again, please review! Reading your lovely words just makes me want to update faster. :)**


	41. Chapter 41

**A big thank you as always to RHatch89, Fun With Typing, nick2951, and karma3825 for reviewing! I checked my stats for this story and see that I have had a few readers from France. What happened yesterday is unimaginably terrible, and I'm keeping the people of Paris, and anyone who may have been affected by the events, in my thoughts. As always, please, please, review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 41

I sit in my parked car, the newspaper open and covering the steering wheel. Alison's face stares back at me, along with the caption, "Rosewood teen presumed to be dead found alive after two years."

I frown and glance out the window, aware that I have been sitting in my car outside of the DiLaurentis house for over twenty minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door.

It's what I have to do, I keep reminding myself, taking hold of the door handle and then releasing it again for the fifth time. Alison's only been back in school for two days, and already it seems like armies are popping up all over the place, fighting for her or against her.

Usually I would try talking to the other girls first, but they've all been so attached to Ali's side lately that I'm not sure that conversation would go well. It's strange. Before Alison came back, I finally felt like I was starting to become real friends with Spencer, Hanna, Emily, and Aria, to really gain their trust.

And now it seems like it's back to "us" versus "them." And I have been pushed right back to "them."

A new surge of anger hits me at that thought. There's only one way to possibly put an end to this war that seems to have taken over the school, and that's directly confronting the person behind it all.

But I stare down at Alison's picture, suddenly too petrified to move, because all at once the memory of my last, and only, confrontation with her comes back to me.

…

 _The move from the middle school to the high school was scary. So scary, in fact, that the administration decided that the best way to deal with the transition was with they liked to call "Jump Up Day!"_

 _I walked into school two weeks before the end of my eighth grade year, my hands clasped in front of me as I headed down the hallway with the rest of my class. We were huddled together in a pack, following closely behind the high school guidance counselor._

 _High school was a terrifying place. All of the students seemed so huge, and so did everything else. The lockers, the desks, the classrooms…it was all a little overwhelming._

 _Macy bounded up to me, grinning, her blond braids bouncing as she grabbed hold of my arm. "This is so cool!" she gushed, nodding in the direction of two beanstalk-tall boys wearing basketball jerseys. "Can't you wait to get away from all of the annoying little children at middle school?"_

 _I frowned around, not so sure about that. Right now, I felt like a child, myself. "I guess," I said with a shrug as we passed by the two huge boys._

 _One of them glanced down at me and grinned, cocking an eyebrow. I jumped and moved to stand on Macy's other side. She let out a laugh and practically jumped up and down in excitement. "Oh my god! He totally just checked you out!"_

 _I groaned, closing my eyes. "Macy, he was, like, sixteen years old."_

 _"_ _Yeah," she replied, smacking me on the arm. "And you_ look _like you're sixteen." Her face reddening, she reached up and undid her braids, smoothing her fingers through her hair. "I wish I looked like you."_

 _I twirled a piece of my dark brown hair on my finger and sighed. If I could, I would have traded appearances with Macy any day, especially now. I had the feeling that looking mature as a freshman in high school wouldn't necessarily be a good thing._

 _"_ _Hey," Macy piped up, and I braced myself, ready for another comment about guys or her looks. "Isn't that your sister?"_

 _Surprised, I gazed down the adjoining hallway in the direction that she was looking. Mona stood with her back nearly pressed up against a row of lockers, reaching up with one hand to push up her glasses. Five girls stood facing her, but one, with curly, blond hair, was clearly in charge._

 _Alison._

 _I faltered and paused, watching Alison cross her arms and toss her head back, laughing. Macy tapped me on the shoulder. "Hurry up, Viola," she said, and I realized that the rest of the group of eighth graders was already halfway down the hallway._

 _But I couldn't just walk away after watching my sister be bullied. "Go on," I told Macy. "I'll catch up with you."_

 _She looked at me uncertainly, but nodded and ran off. As usual. Recently, it seemed like Macy was way more concerned with doing what everyone else was doing, instead of doing what she really wanted._

 _I shrugged this off and started down the hallway, taking in a deep breath. "You know, this school used to have standards," Alison was sneering, turned away enough that she couldn't see me watching. "Now it seems like they'll just let any loser in." She turned to the dirty-blonde, slightly chubby girl beside her, looked her up and down for a moment, then said sweetly, "Don't you think, Han?"_

 _I winced. I knew how vicious Alison could be – she was practically legendary among the mean girls in the middle school – but I'd never actually been a witness to her cruelty before. So I braced myself and called, "Hey."_

 _Mona glanced over at me, her eyes growing wide behind her glasses. "Viola, what are you…what are you doing here?"_

 _I ignored her and looked directly at Alison, willing myself not to be afraid. "I heard what you just said. That wasn't very nice."_

 _Alison turned to face me, her eyebrows shooting up, and for a moment I thought that I'd actually intimidated her. But then a smirk settled across her face. "Excuse me? Who, exactly, are you?"_

 _Mona caught my eye and shook her head, shrinking back against the locker. But I walked over to her anyway, looping an arm around her shoulder. "Viola Vanderwaal. And I'm guessing you're Alison?"_

 _Alison nudged the short girl next to her, with big eyes and hair streaked with pink, and nodded at me. "How sweet. Loser Mona's getting her little sister to fight her battles for her now. That's a new_ level _of pathetic."_

 _I felt my arm drop off of my sister's shoulder, back to my side. Wow. I'd dealt with my fair share of mean girls and bullies, and I didn't think anything got worse than catty eighth grade girls._

 _But Alison took "mean girl" to a whole new level._

 _"_ _Seriously?" I asked. "What's your problem, Alison? What do you get out of talking to people like that?"_

 _The tall, brunette girl on her other side shook her head, looking uncomfortable. "Ali, maybe we should – "_

 _"_ _You don't know this," Alison cut her off, stepping closer to me. I estimated that we were probably around the same height, although in her high heels she had a good few inches on me, "but I own this school. And I'm not about to let some snotty little eighth grader come in here and talk down to me."_

 _I took a step forward as well, and Mona reached out, grabbing my arm at the same time that the tall brown-haired girl grabbed Alison's. I pulled my hand away and smiled. "And you don't know this," I said, dropping my voice, "but you have another thing coming if you think that I'm going to stand around and let you treat my sister like crap. You might talk big now, but if I have anything to do with it, next year is going to be very different."_

 _Alison's eyes narrowed, and I could practically see fire behind them. I took in a silent breath, willing myself to meet her gaze. I couldn't back down now. Not after that._

 _"_ _Viola!" a slightly nasally voice called, and a moment later, one of the middle school teachers who accompanied us down here turned the corner. She frowned at the sight of us all. "What are you doing?"_

 _All at once, Alison's demeanor changed. She uncrossed her arms, her mouth curving into a sweet smile. "Hi, Mrs. Norbert," she trilled. "Viola just got separated from the rest of the group, so I thought I'd give her an introduction to Rosewood High!"_

 _Mrs. Norbert smiled back at her, and it was only then that I realized why Alison was able to get away with treating people so horribly: She had everyone else fooled. "How nice of you, Alison," the English teacher said kindly. "We miss you down at the middle school."_

 _Alison beamed back at her, giving a little wave. "Come on, Viola," Mrs. Norbert said to me, gesturing for me to follow her. "I have to set you up with a lunch ID."_

 _"_ _Sure," I replied, but turned, realizing with a start that my sister had vanished. Startled, I glanced once more at Alison. Her smile was still firmly in place, but her eyes met mine, hardening._

 _I turned away and walked down the hallway, making sure to keep my head held high. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for summer to be over and high school to begin._

 _Because this wasn't over._

 _…_

By the time I've finished reliving this memory, my body has acted independently of my brain and has carried me all the way out of the car and up to the DiLaurentis' front porch.

Crap. I am not ready for this.

Or maybe I am, I realize, as I reach up to press the doorbell without hesitation. If I could deal with Alison at her worst, at the top of her regime, there's no reason why I can't deal with her now.

I'm expecting her father to answer the door. Apparently he's been pretty protective since she's been back, and really, who could blame him? I'm rehearsing what to say in my head when the door opens.

"Viola?" Alison says in surprise, and I actually take a step back in alarm. "What are you doing here?"

This reminds me of that day, way back in eighth grade, in front of the lockers, although this time her voice is completely lacking in venom. "Alison," I reply, caught off guard. "Um, can I – can I come in?"  
She nods and opens the door further, allowing me to step inside before closing it behind me. While she's turned away, I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. Without opening them, I burst out, "Whatever you're doing, it needs to stop."

I open my eyes and whirl around. She's staring at me, but there's no anger in her eyes. In fact, all I see on her face is…surprise? Confusion? "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, folding her arms. Her voice is filled with defiance.

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "Oh really? You don't think I might have seen that video of you slapping my sister so hard that you somehow scratched her? Come on, Ali, the whole _school_ saw what happened."

"And everyone's turned against me," she says, and I can see the desperation in her eyes. "But that's not what really happened, Viola. She slapped me first, I swear to you."

I'm surprised by her attitude, so much so that I have trouble coming up with a response. Why is she so intent on trying to convince me of this? Shouldn't she hate me? "Why would I believe you, after what you said on that video? Loser Mona? Really? What, are we back in middle school now?"

Alison looks almost flustered for a moment, her eyes darting around. Finally she takes in a breath and brushes past me, over to the window. The blinds are shut tight. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

I sigh. I know I should leave, especially after that remark, but something about the way she said it gives me the impression that there's more going on. "Listen, Ali," I try again, refocusing. "I understand that you're freaked out, especially after what happened to your mom." I pause, watching her shoulders tense, and go on, "But my sister isn't the enemy."

"She could have fooled me," Alison snaps, whirling back around to face me. "Building an army against me and everything? Sure seems like she's preparing for a war."

I roll my eyes. I'm getting really sick of the stupid army. "I really doubt you have to worry about a bunch of high school kids," I say, folding my arms. "But there is someone you – and the rest of us – really should be worried about."

She frowns, glancing around. " 'A' is gone, Viola. Shana's dead."

I watch her carefully. I never really believed that Shana was "A." I mean, she apparently indirectly claimed that she was, and since then, I for one haven't heard head nor tail from our favorite stalker, but still. It just seems so…random.

And besides. If Shana was in New York, who killed Alison's mom that night?

I open my mouth to say all of this, but pause. Losing a parent is hard enough. I really don't want to bring that up. She probably hears enough about it as it is.

Suddenly itching to get out of here, I fidget with my hands and step closer to the door. "You're right. 'A' is gone," I repeat, staring down at the ground. "Just…please. Please leave my family out of whatever you're dealing with." But this doesn't seem like a harsh enough statement to bring home my point, so I grab the doorknob and turn back, narrowing my eyes. "We're not in eighth grade anymore, Alison. If I hear that you're going back to your old ways and messing with Mona again, I'll have to stop you myself. And trust me. It won't be pretty."

"I told you," Alison says desperately, "I didn't – "

I step through the front door and let it close behind me before I hear the rest. I stand on her porch for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading back to my car. I'm only halfway there when my phone goes off, and I find out that I was right: "A" was never gone.

 _Really want to make sure your family stays safe? Here's a hint: Start minding your own business. –A_

I stare down at the message, not alarmed because it's from "A," for once, but because of what it contains. All of the blinds were closed tight in Ali's house, and I hadn't heard a sound the whole time I was in there. I know that "A" is good, but can anyone really be _that_ good?

The odds of anyone listening from outside or somehow sneaking in seem slim compared to the other option, which practically jumps out at me.

Shana wasn't "A." Alison is.

...

 **Thanks for reading! Again, please let me know what you think. I really appreciate any feedback I get. I can't give too much of a summary about the next chapter without giving anything away, but I will say that Viola is asked to keep a new secret...one that is potentially dangerous. Any thoughts?**


	42. Chapter 42

**I wasn't going to update this until tomorrow, but since I got a fourth review this morning I figured I'd stick to the schedule. Thanks to Fun With Typing, Mr Tea The Dino, RHatch89, and Pinkpoodle8 for reviewing! This is a pretty big one, so please remember to let me know what you think. I love hearing from you guys.**

Chapter 42

I've finally accepted that gymnastics has officially lost its place in my life. But that doesn't mean I can't stay in shape.

I turn the music up on my iPod, concentrating on running as I round the perimeter of the gym for the sixth time. It's empty after school, for once, with no basketball practice going on, so I'm taking advantage by running laps. It's kind of nice being able to focus on something other than Alison and "A."

Over the past few days, I've been thinking long and hard about whether or not I should confide my suspicions to Hanna, Emily, Spencer, and Aria. I still can't shake the strange thought that Alison is up to something. But just the other day a man was arrested after being found lurking around in her yard, and he confessed to her abduction.

So who knows.

I try to put it all out of my mind and focus on my breathing. I used to be able to run several miles without even breaking a sweat, but I'm so out of practice that I need to stop and bend over at the waist to catch my breath.

The gym doors burst open before I can put my ear buds back in, and a younger girl who must be a freshman runs in, panting almost as badly as I am. "V-Viola?" she stammers.

I frown at her alarmed look and nod, shoving my iPod into my pocket. "Yeah."

"You need to come to the music room," she says, out of breath. "Mona just fainted."

"What?" My heart jumps in alarm and I push right past her, rushing down the hallway even though my side feels like it's going to split open from so much activity. I skid into the music room with the little freshman at my heels.

Mona is sitting up on the floor, looking dazed and confused but physically okay, thank god. Hanna is kneeling beside her, and a music stand lays overturned nearby. I run over and drop down onto my knees. "Holy crap," I gasp, placing my hand on my sister's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I – I think so," she mumbles, moving her hand to rest on her purse. "Just a little tired."

Hanna shifts uncomfortably, her eyes flicking down to the purse. She looks up and seems to notice me looking. "Um, does your head hurt at all?" she asks, her brow furrowing.

"Maybe a little," Mona says, pressing her hand to her temple and wincing. "But I'll be fine."

"I called your mother, dear," the music teacher calls, appearing from the little office across the room. She spots me and visibly relaxes. "Oh, Viola, good. I'm glad you're still here. Your mother's not at home, but she asked me to see if you could drive Mona home."

"Yeah, of course," I say immediately, nodding and getting to my feet. "My car's right over in the parking lot."

"I'm fine, really," Mona insists as Hanna and I help her stand.

"You go home and rest," the music teacher, whose name is eluding me, says with a kind smile. "I'll postpone my decision on the solo until you're able to audition."

Hanna folds her arms, looking concerned. I notice that she's holding a few sheets of music in her hand. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," I say, smiling. "Stay here and sing. We're good."

But it's more than that. There's something strange about this, I decide, looping my arm around Mona's shoulders as we walk out to my car. I've known her for literally all of my life, and she has never once passed out before, for any reason. I don't think that she faked it, but I do think that there's a reason behind it, and I need to talk to her alone.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask once we're in the car and pulling out of the school's parking lot. "Should I be, like, taking you to the doctor or something?"

Mona sighs and leans her head back against the seat, staring straight ahead. "I told you, I'm fine. I was only out for a few seconds."

"Yeah," I say slowly, stopping at a red light and turning to look at her. "It's kind of weird, though, right? I mean, just passing out, out of nowhere. What do you think caused it?"

"I had a panic attack," she says immediately, glancing at me.

"You had a panic attack," I repeat flatly. I do not buy this one bit. "Really. Over what?"

Once again, my sister does not even hesitate. "Alison," she insists, with such certainty that I'm not even sure why I'm still having a hard time believing this, just that I really am. "I've been having them since she's been back in school, just…never that badly."

I frown ahead at the road in front of me, biting my lip. I shake my head, deciding that I'll let it go for now, at least, and change the subject. "You could have split your head open on that music stand. God, you're lucky." I pull up to a stop sign and turn my head, looking her up and down for any sign of injuries.

I don't see any bruises, but I notice something else, something that gives me pause. There's a bandage on her arm, right on the inside of her elbow, with what looks like a small piece of gauze underneath it.

I focus my eyes on it and frown. "What's that?"

"What?"

"What happened to your arm?" I clarify, tearing my gaze away to focus on driving. "The bandage."

Mona pauses, then laughs a little. "Oh, right. That."

I raise my eyebrows when she doesn't offer more of an explanation, my curiosity growing. She's doing what she always does when she doesn't want to give a real answer – avoiding the question altogether. "That looks like the same place where you'd give blood," I comment.

"Uh, yeah," Mona says after a moment, but there is a definite edge to her voice. "I went to a blood drive the other day."

I can't think of a good argument for this, until a realization practically slams into me. "No, you didn't," I burst out, a memory coming back to me. "We both went with Mom to one just last month. And you have to wait eight weeks before donating again."

I pull the car into the driveway but don't turn it off. Instead, I undo my seatbelt and turn fully in my seat, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows at my sister.

She is staring at me, looking shocked that I've actually managed to outsmart her. This should be the best day of my life, but I'm too busy putting the pieces together. The band-aid on her arm. Fainting and constantly being tired.

"You're taking your own blood." I don't know this for sure, obviously, but somehow it all makes sense. I haven't been this certain of something in a long time.

"Don't be ridiculous, Viola," Mona snaps and jumps out of the car. She shuts the door behind her but leans against it for a moment, looking dazed.

I leap out and run around to the other side, grabbing her arm. "You lied about giving blood, you passed out completely out of the blue, and you've been going to bed earlier than ever. Tell me the truth."

She wrenches her arm out of my grip and shoots me a look that could melt ice. I wonder for a moment if this was a bad idea, but then she relents, shaking her head. "Not here. Come on."

We walk inside and I follow her up to her room. She shuts and locks the door, then turns to face me and crosses her arms. "I have to show you something," she says in a low voice, so intense that I feel myself getting nervous. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not a single person."

"Uh, I promise," I stammer, a lot less sure of myself now.

I watch her walk over to what looks like a tiny little black refrigerator. I squint at it, sure that I've never seen that in all of the times I've snooped through this room, which are more than I'd like to admit. But then she pulls the door open, and it becomes immediately clear that this is not just a normal fridge.

Cold steam bursts out, clearing to reveal a rack filled with little test tubes of some dark red liquid.

Suddenly, I feel a little dizzy myself. I stumble back and land on the bed, my hand flying to my forehead, where a pounding headache is starting to form. "What the hell is – is that your _blood?_ "

"And here I thought you already put all the pieces together," Mona says dryly, shutting the door to the little fridge quickly and folding her arms.

As usual, I am left to beg for information. "Well, obviously not! This is most definitely not what I was expecting. Okay." I take a deep breath and manage to successfully stop the room from spinning. "Are you going to tell me what the _hell_ you're doing?"

"I'll tell you," she confirms, sitting down beside me and grabbing my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "But you have to promise me again. As crazy as you think this is, you can't tell anyone."

I squirm away, sick of being treated like a narc. "Mona, my whole life pretty much revolves around keeping secrets. What makes this any different?" But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're not true. There's something very different about this, and I feel a strange sense of dread deep in my stomach.

"I have a plan," my sister says slowly, her eyes lighting up the same way they always did when she was telling me about some new "A" plan. This does not help my nerves. "I'm going to find out who 'A' is, Viola."

"What do you mean? How is your blood going to help you do that?"  
She smiles, but I can see about a thousand emotions behind it. "I'm going to fake my death."

I'm leaping up off of the bed before my brain can even comprehend this. I open my mouth to say something in response to what is probably the craziest thing I've ever heard, but I can't even think of any words.

"Listen to me," Mona goes on, obviously noticing my horror. " 'A' came up with this plan, for me to fake my death and leave evidence that will get Alison thrown in jail for my murder."

"Wait," I interrupt, holding up a shaking hand. "How is that going to help you find out – "

"I'm going to gain 'A's' trust, Viola," she cuts me off, glancing at the window as if she's expecting "A" to appear there. "I'm going to gain their trust and find out who they are, and then I'm going to come back to Rosewood and tell everyone. Alison will go free and…" She stops pacing, her smile widening. "And I'll be everyone's hero."

I do not even remotely know how to handle this. Not just the plan, which is completely insane, but her attitude in general. I've never seen her this manic over anything, and that above everything is making me anxious.

I'm aware that the silence has stretched on for too long. I need to say something in response to this, so I settle on, "You're kidding, right?"

Mona's smile fades into a look of disbelief, like she can't believe that I don't see the genius in this idea. "It's going to work, Viola. I'm positive."

I'm not so confident. In fact, I feel a panic attack of my own coming on, a _real_ one. Shaking all over, I wrap my arms around myself and tilt my head to one side. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I declare, aware that my voice is trembling. "You're going to end up getting killed."

"I'm not," she says insistently, shaking her head. Her eyes are still shining with enthusiasm, which is not helping to calm my nerves. "That's why you have to make sure that you don't tell _anyone_ about this. If 'A' finds out that I'm double-crossing them…" She trails off, shaking her head.

I don't even want to think about that. "Okay," I say slowly, reaching up to chew on my thumbnail, "and what about in between the time you fake your death and find out who 'A' is? Where are you gonna go? How am I going to know that you're alright?"  
"I have that all figured out," Mona says, because of course she does. "I was going to make a map for you to find after I left, but I might as well tell you know." She walks over to the window and points in the direction of the woods behind our house. "You know that big tree just a little ways into the woods, the one we used to climb when we were kids?"

I roll my eyes and smile for the first time in this whole conversation. "Yeah, the one I broke my arm falling out of."

"It's got a big knothole in it," she goes on, grinning. "And it's hollow. I can hide letters in there, to let you know that I'm okay. And you can do the same."

That makes me feel a little better, but I still don't think I can remain standing any longer. I sink down into the chair at the desk and press my hand to my chest. "You're giving me heart palpitations."

"Viola. I'm going to be fine." Mona grabs my hand, squeezing it. "I've been saving up money and supplies, enough to last me a few months. There's nothing to worry about."

I bite my lip and stare at the ground, wondering if she really believes that delusion, or if she's just trying to put on an act for my benefit. But one thing is certain – there's nothing I can do to talk her out of it, so I ask the next most pressing question I have. "When are you going to do this?"

She shrugs, nodding at the little refrigerator. "Soon. I still have to save a little more blood to make it look real. I'll probably be ready sometime in December."

I feel my throat constrict. December? It's nearly Thanksgiving. December will be here in only a few short weeks.

The gravity of what is going to happen brings a sudden rush of tears to my eyes. My parents are going to be devastated. For weeks, months even, I am not going to have a sister.

This is too much to bear, and I leap up, wrapping my arms around my sister in a tight hug. "Okay. I know I'm not going to be able to stop you. But please, just…be careful."

...

 **Instead of a summary, here's an excerpt from the next chapter:** ** _"I grin, enthusiasm beginning to replace the dread that has plagued me over the past few days. Finally it seems like we're actually closer to solving this mystery than we ever have been."_**


	43. Chapter 43

**Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, Karma3825, and Fun With Typing for the reviews! Please let me know what you think of this one - the next chapter is big, and the more reviews I get, the faster I want to update!**

Chapter 43

"I think all you have to do is use Avogadro's number."

"Are you sure? Because – "

"I don't know, I'm not there!"

I laugh, switching the phone to my other ear and pressing it against my shoulder as I erase part of my work. Lately I've been talking to Justin on the phone as we both do homework, since it's not easy for us to find time to actually _be_ together, in person.

Although, since he's a year older than me and has taken all of the classes that I'm currently in, usually these conversations just consist of him helping me through my work.

"Oh, hey," I blurt out, using the number he suggested and grinning as I scratch down my work. "I think you were right."

"Of course I am," he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm a chemistry genius."

"Shut up!" I laugh, reaching up to push back my hair.

There's a knock on my door and I look up. Mona's standing in the doorway, her eyes wide. "I have to show you something," she says quietly.

I roll my eyes and cover the phone briefly. "Can it wait? I'm kind of – "

She shakes her head, cutting me off. "No."

Slightly more alarmed, I sit up and push my notebook aside. Justin's in the middle of a sentence – of which I missed the whole first part, oops – so I wait until he's finished speaking to clear my throat and say, "Hey, um, I'm gonna have to call you back. Something just came up."

There's a pause, and I wait, expecting a casual "no big deal." Justin's usually so cool about us not getting to spend as much time together as we used to that when he speaks, I'm immediately caught off guard. "Seriously? You have to go now?"

I wince at his slightly harsh tone. "Um, yeah. I'm sorry. It's just that – "

"Viola," he sighs, and I cut off abruptly. "This is the third time this has happened this week."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it seem like every time I've talked to you lately, or seen you in person, you're either absorbed in your phone or running off early. When I called today, you said you'd be around until nine."

"I thought so, too," I insist, glancing up. Obviously noticing that something is going on, Mona makes a face at me and ducks out of the doorway. I heave myself off of my bed and move to shut the door. "It's just that…there's a lot going on for me right now, and…"

I trail off, not sure how to finish that, but he doesn't wait for me to go on. "There's always a lot going on with you, Viola." He pauses, and I can hear him take in a deep breath. "Listen, I know junior year's rough. I went through it. But I'm sick of being your last priority."

I lean back against the door, biting my lip. "You're not! Something just came up, with my family, that's all. I'll call you back."

"It's not just this," Justin exhales. I can hear the sadness in his voice, and something else, too. Resignation. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

I feel like someone has just punched me in the stomach. My knees wobble, and I sink down to the floor, my back sliding against the door. "What are you…"

"I want a girlfriend who I can count on," he goes on. "Someone who I can see more than two times a month."

"You're breaking up with me," I say before he can, and the words sound flat despite the tears burning behind my eyes. I blink quickly, forcing them back. I will not cry, at least not until I'm off the phone.

Justin heaves a sigh. His voice is heavy. "I really like you, Vi. But this…this isn't working out. You have to see that, too, don't you?"  
I want to argue, to cry and scream into the phone like all the girls in sappy love movies do. But I don't have it in me.

And he's right, I realize, thinking back on the last few months. I'm constantly cutting our phone calls short and cancelling dates, usually so I can investigate a new lead on "A" or put together some new plan with the other girls. Last year, it seemed like Justin occupied all of my thoughts. Now I find myself going days without thinking about him at all…almost like I don't have a boyfriend.

"You're right," I admit. "This isn't working. You're totally right."

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice sounds slightly strange, a little choked up. He's not crying, is he? "The time we _have_ spent together has been really great."

I smile despite myself. "Yeah. It has." A long pause follows this, and I take a deep breath. I need to end this conversation. "Bye, Justin."

"Bye, Viola," he replies, and I end the call, tossing my phone onto my bed before I can say something I'll regret.

I close my eyes, taking a breath, and I'm surprised to find that the urge to cry has completely gone away. Because he really was right. We haven't been together in a long time, not really. I can't even remember the last time we kissed.

Shaking my head, I get to my feet and walk down the hallway to my sister's room. She's sitting in the middle of her bed, her laptop in front of her, among a bunch of papers. "Okay, what is it?" I ask, closing the door behind me.

She glances up, frowning. "Is everything okay?"

"No," I say immediately, joining her on the bed. "He broke up with me." I am slightly alarmed by how emotionless my voice sounds. That can't be normal.

"Wow." Mona's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I'm sorry."

I wave my hand dismissively. "Don't be," I say quickly, because I can feel my throat getting tight. I cough and avert my eyes, gazing down at the papers strewn everywhere. "What is all this? Where have you been all night?"

She smiles a little, gesturing across the room. A very familiar white nurse's uniform lays across the arm of a chair. "I snuck into Radley. With Spencer."

I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers, fighting off a headache. "Why?"

"To get these." Mona reaches down and grabs her bag from the floor, holding it open to show me. It's filled with old-fashioned tapes, each labeled with a date. "They're recordings from Bethany Young's sessions at Radley."

I wrinkle my nose, picking a tape out of the bag and examining it. "The girl who was buried in Alison's grave? I didn't know she was in Radley." I set it down and shake my head, unable to put the pieces together. "I still don't understand why you had to go and get these."

"I have the recording of Alison's lie detector test," she says intently, leaning forward. "The police know that she didn't kill Bethany. But they think Spencer might have. They're putting out a warrant for her arrest, Viola."

"What?" I gasp, feeling my heart skip a beat. "Did Spencer even _know_ Bethany Young?"

"No," Mona says quietly, going back to her laptop. "But Alison might have."

"Oh my god," I mutter, all at once realizing just how big of a deal this is. "Alison knew Bethany. And they were both wearing the same shirt that night. This could be what we need to prove that Alison is 'A.'"

She smiles, still staring down at the computer. "Exactly. I need a few more days to go through the rest of the tapes. But I'm close. I'm so close."

I grin, enthusiasm beginning to replace the dread that has plagued me over the past few days. Finally it seems like we're actually closer to solving this mystery than we ever have been. But then I remember what day it is. "Tomorrow's Thanksgiving," I say, frowning. "How are you going to have time to – "

"I'll work on this all night if I have to. And you're going to help me."

Suddenly, my break-up is the last thing on my mind.

...

 **Next, it's Thanksgiving. And I think you all know what that means.**


	44. Chapter 44

**Thanks to RHatch89, Guest, nick2951, karma3825, Pinkpoodle8, and Fun With Typing for reviewing! Since Thanksgiving is tomorrow, what could be a more appropriate time for this chapter? But I hope all of you have a better holiday than they do! Please let me know what you think - this is a big one.**

Chapter 44

I stumble downstairs a little after eight on Thanksgiving Day, rubbing my eyes. I stayed up way too late last night, listening to tapes and going through the records that Mona managed to steal from Radley. I finally went to bed at around three in the morning, but I barely slept a wink.

And I still don't think I've ever felt better. Soon we'll have proof that Alison lured Bethany to Rosewood that night, that all of this has been her big plan. She's "A." I've never been so confident of anything in my life.

I pour myself a glass of orange juice and lean against the counter, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of my chest. It's finally Thanksgiving. And as much as I'm dreading December, I'm relieved that this month is finally over.

November seemed to go on forever.

I'm not sure how long I stand there, half asleep, before my mother rushes in, already dressed. "Viola, good, you're up," she says, grabbing a plate of cookies from the counter. "Can you help me load up the car? I want to get on the road within an hour or so."

"Sure," I say brightly, setting down my glass and picking up a tinfoil wrapped dish of sweet potatoes. We're going away to my grandparents' house for Thanksgiving, and it's going to be a long drive. I thought about taking some of Bethany's tapes along with me, but decided against it. I don't need to explain to my mother why I have old fashioned cassettes in my possession.

My mother frowns at the collection of dishes and packages on the counter. Shaking her head, she says, "This is going to take a million trips." She walks to the bottom of the stairs and yells up, "Mona! Come down here, please!"

My sister appears down the stairs, looking bright and cheerful even though I'm pretty sure she slept less than I did. "How much further did you get?" I whisper as she grabs a plate off of the counter, watching to make sure my mother isn't in earshot.

"Not very far," she replies, following me out to the car. "There's a lot to go through."

I grimace as I set the dish I'm holding down in the back of the car. I don't like the idea of putting this all on hold for nearly a week, but even so, getting out of Rosewood will be good. It'll be nice to not have to worry about "A" for at least a small amount of time.

"Okay, I think we'll all set," my mother announces after another few trips, shutting the trunk of the car. "Are you girls ready?"

"Totally," I chirp, trying to act normal. "I feel like I haven't seen the family in forever."

My mother smiles almost sneakily. "Oh, and did I tell you that Lesli's gonna be there?"

Mona's face lights up. "No way! I talked to her last night, she said she was stuck at school."

Lesli is one of her friends, that's all I know, from a summer or two ago. I don't know how they met or who, exactly, she is, but I can't hold back my excitement at finally getting to meet her. "Oh, cool. I can't wait to meet her."

My mom sighs, shaking her head, but she can't keep from smiling. "Oh, pretend I didn't just ruin the surprise," she says, walking over to join us. "Promise me you'll get on the road within the hour," she adds to Mona. "I don't want you to get stuck in traffic."

"Okay, I will," my sister says brightly. "I just have to finish this report and then I'm on my way."

This is a cover, obviously, so she can finish up listening to the tapes, but I'm irritated at being left out. "Are you sure you don't want me to hang around and drive down with you later?" I ask pointedly. "We can split the driving."

"No, no, it's fine," she says, waving me off. "I'll only be, like, an hour."

"Okay." I hug her, suddenly hit by a flutter of nerves that I can't explain. "See you later."

Waving, I hop into the car beside my mom, and we pull off, leaving my sister behind.

I close my eyes and lean back against the seat. I try to push down my nerves. There's nothing to be worried about. We're close to proving that Alison is "A" and keeping Spencer out of jail. And anyway, nothing bad ever happens on Thanksgiving.

…

I jolt awake half an hour later to the sound of my phone going off. "I was just about to wake you up," my mother says, glancing over at me from the driver's seat. "I'm thinking we'll take a break in about half an hour."

"Sure," I yawn, looking down at my phone. The text is from Hanna.

 _Cops just arrested Spencer. Where are you?_

The phone nearly falls out of my hands. I turn away to look out the window, not wanting my mom to see the alarm on my face. I can't believe it. I can't believe they actually got a warrant for her arrest, on a _holiday._

Nauseous, I write back shakily, _On the road w/ my mom. Call Mona!_

"Everything okay, honey?" my mother asks, pulling onto the highway. "You look a little pale."

"Um, yeah," I mutter, pressing a hand to my stomach. "Just a little carsick. I think I, um, ate too much before we got on the road."

She reaches over, patting my hand. "I'll open the window."

I swallow hard, forcing down the nausea, and concentrate on the road. There's nothing I can do about Spencer now. And besides, there's no way that anything will happen to her. She didn't kill Bethany. Her parents will get her out before she even sees the inside of a jail cell.

I force myself to focus on this instead of the alternative until my mother finally pulls off of the highway, heading for a rest stop. I'm broken out of my thoughts by the sound of a cell phone ringing.

I check mine, surprised to find that it's completely silent. It's my mother who finally pulls her phone out of her purse, checks the caller ID with a frown, and answers before I can ask any questions. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Vanderwaal?" I hear a deep voice respond, but before I can hear what he says next, my phone basically explodes.

Hanna. Aria. Emily. They're all calling and texting, new ones coming in before I can get to the others.

 _We're at your house. You need to get home._

 _There's blood everywhere._

 _We think something happened to Mona._

I stare down at the influx of messages, my vision blurring. A new call comes in, from Aria, and I answer it without thinking. "What's going on?"

"Viola," she says, and her voice is thin, like she's near tears. "Mona called me half an hour ago. She said she found proof…about Alison."

"Okay, and?" I demand. My mother is still on the phone, but I block out what she's saying, twisting in my seat and pressing my hand to my other ear.

Aria's voice wavers. "We…me and Hanna and Emily…we went to your house, and when we got there…"

She trails off, her voice cracking, and I close my eyes. I already know what she's going to say, but for some reason I want to know for sure. "Tell me."

"There's blood. Everywhere. The police just got here."

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, mostly to keep the world from spinning around me. I hear my mother choke back a sob as she gets off the phone, so I tell Aria, "I have to go. We'll be there soon." I hang up and turn to my mother. We've pulled over to the side of the highway, and her hands lay limply in her lap. "Mom?"  
"There's been an accident," she tells me, her face pale white and her hands shaking. "Something happened…to your sister."

"I know," I whisper, feeling my throat tighten with panic.

It takes us a little less than an hour to turn around and get back home. I convince my mother to let me drive, mostly because I need something to focus on. And judging by the way she sobs the entire way, I don't think she would've been able to drive anyway.

I manage to keep my head clear until we pull onto our street. I take one look at my house and the world tilts. Bright yellow police tape is everywhere, wrapped around the front porch and blocking the gathering crowd from getting closer. Police cars and ambulances are everywhere. I have to park across the street.

I leap out of the car, spotting Emily, Aria, and Hanna, along with Ezra and Caleb, standing a ways away. I'm just about to run and join them when an officer steps out from the house, a notepad in hand. I recognize him as Holbrook, the sketchy cop who introduced himself to me and the others after Wilden's funeral.

"The investigation is ongoing," he announces. I'm aware of my mother gripping my arm, but I feel nothing. My whole body has gone numb. "But we have ruled this a homicide. Although we did not find a body, the amount of blood in the house would indicate that the victim's wounds were fatal."

I lean back against the car, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of me. I know what's coming, but his next words still hit me like a train.

"Mona Vanderwaal was murdered."

My mother's screams bring me back to reality. She's sobbing, practically kneeling over and gripping the arm of the officer standing beside us.

This is wrong. This is all wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen, not until December, she told me herself. What changed? Did she find something that made her double think that Alison really is "A," that made her hurry along the process? Or did "A" decide that for her?

They didn't find a body. That means she can't really be dead, that this really was the plan all along. I'm not sure whether I should be angry or afraid, but my heart makes that decision for me, and fear floods through my body.

It seemed like such a bad idea to trust "A," to assume that the plan they came up with was real. I suddenly know that this wasn't Mona's idea, to push the plan forward. If she was going to fake her death today, way earlier than planned, she would have told me.

So "A" must have had a motive. I glance around, my eyes landing on Alison. She's standing slightly behind a police car, watching the action with very little emotion. But…if Alison really is "A," why would she want to get _herself_ thrown in jail? It feels like another layer of confusion has just been added to this whole mess.

I tear my eyes away, because I'm afraid of what I'll do if I don't. Everywhere I look, all I see are police cars and flashing lights, people crying. Hanna's hugging Caleb, her face crumpling into tears. Aria's hand is clasped in Ezra's her face pale.

So I look up instead, focusing on the sky and the tops of the bare trees.

There is something very wrong here, but I force that thought out of my mind. I have to be strong. Mona's okay.

She has to be.

...

 **Again, please review and let me know what you think! I really like the next chapter and would love to be able to get it up quickly. Next, a week has passed, and Viola's hopes begin to sink when she discovers that she is not the only person who knows the truth behind Mona's death.**


	45. Chapter 45

**Thanks to RHatch89, karma3825, and nick2951 for reviewing, and to DarkStorm00 and .1 for the favorites - I'd love to hear what you guys think! I hope you enjoy this next chapter and I look forward to hearing your thoughts, so don't forget to review!**

Chapter 45

I pull my jacket tighter around myself and glance back at the house one more time. Then I plunge into the woods, clicking on the flashlight.

It's been a week. A whole week since Thanksgiving, and since my world flew right off its axis.

My father's home. He spends most of his time sitting alone in his office, staring down at a photograph of the four of us at Christmas last year. He doesn't cry, because he never does, on the outside at least.

My mother does cry, however, and has for the past seven days, all the time. At first I tried to comfort her, but I wasn't very good at it. Now she cries mostly in her room, with the door closed, as if that will shield me from her grief.

Our first day back at school was today, and it was terrible. I got a few hugs and teary-eyed apologies, but for the most part no one really seemed to know what to say. I mean, really, what _is_ there to say? "I'm sorry your sister was murdered and her body was stolen?" There's no Hallmark card for that.

At first I tried to remain optimistic. There wasn't a body. And when I checked the little refrigerator, it was empty. For some reason, either Mona or "A" decided to put the plan into motion early.

It makes me angry, especially if she knew and didn't tell me, but being angry is better than being consumed by grief, so I'll take it.

But it's been a week now, and I've checked the knothole in the tree every day. Nothing. No note, no letter, no indication that my sister is still okay. And it's starting to freak me out.

I walk confidently through the trees, used to this route by now. My footprints from yesterday are still implanted in the leaves. Once I reach the big old tree, I set the flashlight down and climb a little ways up to where the knothole is. Holding on tight to a particularly strong branch with one hand, I lean over and poke my other hand into the hole, digging around blindly.

It's empty, once again.

I let out a frustrated groan and drop back to the ground, landing with a thump and grabbing hold of the tree for support. Suddenly enraged, I kick it, a little too hard. Pain ricochets up my leg and I cry out.

Then a twig snaps nearby. I straighten up, the pain in my foot forgotten. A squirrel, I tell myself to calm my quickening heart rate. Just a squirrel, or a rabbit, or something.

 _Snap. Snap._

I turn around in a circle, my fear growing. I want to run, but the sound is coming from the direction that leads back to my house. I press my back against the tree, gripping the flashlight tightly, not sure if I should be feeling scared or ridiculous.

Then a large shadow appears in the same path that I used to get here, and all of my embarrassment flies out the window. Terrified, I hold my breath and click off the flashlight, holding it with both hands.

A hand reaches out, pushing aside a few branches, followed by a pair of legs covered by jeans. All of the fear rushes out of me at once when a boy appears in front of me.

"Mike?" I gasp as Aria's younger brother stops in front of me, his expression just as shocked as I feel. "What are you doing here?"

"Viola?" he replies, his voice filled with surprise. "I'm…what are _you_ doing here?"

No longer afraid, mostly because I'm holding what could probably be considered a weapon, and he's holding what looks like a bag of candy, I step forward, frowning. "I asked you first. What's with that?" I nod at the bag clutched in his hand. "This where you usually come to have a snack?"

He gives me a strange look, and I'm not sure if he picked up on the sarcasm or not. For a moment, we stare at each other, motionless. Finally I raise my eyebrows and gesture for him to speak. I'm not leaving here without an explanation. There's something strange going on here.

Mike sighs, weighing the bag of gummy bears in his hand. "It's for Mona," he says finally, his voice low.

My mouth drops open but for a moment, no sound comes out. I should have come to this conclusion myself, I realize. The woods behind our house. The same tree. The candy. It all makes sense. "You know that she's alive," I say, my voice barely a whisper.

But he hears me, nodding, though he won't meet my eyes. "I burst in on her in her room a few days before Thanksgiving. I saw the blood. She told me about the plan with 'A,' to fake her death."

Wait. A few days before Thanksgiving? Bitterly, I cross my arms and say, "She didn't tell me that you knew."

"She didn't tell me that _you_ knew," he shoots back, frowning. "I thought I was the only one she told."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I've known for a while. She said she'd leave me letters here, so I'll know she's okay, but…" I gesture hopelessly at the empty tree.

"She hasn't left anything?" he asks, alarm evident in his voice. He walks over to the tree, only having to reach up to dig around inside the knothole. I cross my arms, waiting for him to make the realization himself.

"I think something's wrong, Mike," I burst out, tossing the flashlight nervously from hand to hand. "Mona told me that she wasn't going to fake her death until December. Something made her speed the plan along."

"You think 'A' is behind this?" he asks, folding his arms, the little bag of candy crushed in his hand.

"They're behind everything else," I say with a shrug, pointing once more at the candy. "I still don't understand why you have that."

He hesitates, and I can tell at once that he's reluctant to share whatever it is with me. I lower my chin and narrow my eyes. This is not the time for secrets. Finally he shakes his head, speaking quietly. "We planned to meet here. Right about now."

" _What?_ " I feel like I am going to pass out. I press my hand into the tough bark of a tree for support. "You've _spoken_ to her?"

"No!" he exclaims, putting out a hand to stop me from flying completely off of the handle. I take a deep breath and relax, pressing a hand to my chest. "It happened before Thanksgiving. We argued for days about what she was planning on doing, I didn't think it was safe. Mona told me that she'd meet me here a week after she disappeared."

I check my watch. It's nearly seven. I wrap my arms around myself, a shiver shooting up my spine. I still can't shake the feeling of dread that's threatened to consume me ever since Thanksgiving. Even so, a new feeling is beginning to creep in. Hope.

Just a little sliver, but I'll take what I can get.

"I'll stay with you," I declare, reaching up to rub my nose, which has turned red in the cold.

Mike opens his mouth, not looking very happy at this prospect, but relents, sitting down with his back against the tree. "You think she'll really show up?" he asks as I take a seat on the wet leaves across from him.

I feel dampness seep through my leggings and grimace. "Think of it this way," I grumble. "If she doesn't, then we won't have to keep guessing. We'll know something's wrong."

He winces at my bluntness, but I shrug. It's the truth.

The next twenty minutes pass in an uncomfortable silence. I don't think that I've ever had a full conversation with Mike, and this isn't exactly the best place for a meet-and-greet. I'm too jittery to do more than jiggle my leg and try to ignore the fact that I'm sitting on a bunch of wet leaves in the cold weather.

I'm totally going to get a cold after this.

Mike's watch beeps, startling me, and he gets to his feet, throwing the bag of candy down onto the ground. "It's been half an hour," he says, his voice practically a growl. "She's not coming."

I scramble up as well. "You don't know that," I argue, though it's looking more and more likely.

He whirls around to face me, grabbing my arm. "Look at the facts, Viola!" he yells, and I reel back, alarmed by the anger on his face. "She went missing way before she was supposed to, she hasn't left you any messages, and she's not showing up."

I take in a deep, cold breath, pulling my arm out of his grip. "There are a lot of explanations for this. Maybe she's with 'A' right now. Maybe she can't leave yet."

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "It's been a week. You need to wake up and face the facts."

I'm suddenly just as angry as he looks. All week, I've tried to remain positive, and Mike has crushed all of my optimism in one day. "And what _are_ the facts?" I snap, folding my arms and glaring up at him.

He glances back once more at the knothole in the tree, then looks back at me. "Something went wrong," he says quietly, "and Mona's dead." His voice cracks.

I stumble back. I was completely unprepared for that, and all I can do is watch as he shoves a branch out of his way, stomping back down the path leading to my backyard and out of sight.

I stare after him for a long moment, my heart thumping hard inside my chest. I know I should be angry. I should yell after him that he's wrong, that there's no way Mona could have been double-crossed and killed, that she's too smart for that.

But I lean back against a tree, feeling all of my energy seeping out of me as I realize all at once that he's probably right.

...

 **Poor Viola seems to have entered a dark place. Next, an old memory helps her new friendship with Mike grow.**


	46. Chapter 46

**Since I didn't get much feedback at all on the last chapter, I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow (thanks to RHatch89 and Guest!). But I've had an absolutely horrible day and figured that getting this up is a better alternative to continuing to cry. So here we go. I was pretty disappointed with only two reviews on the last chapter, though - hopefully just a result of the holiday break. I'm really hoping to get some more feedback on this chapter - your reviews would really turn this awful day around.**

 **This is a sweet chapter, and I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 46

 _We had a motion-activated porch light._

 _That was my main concern, the only thing really on my mind as I snuck across the yard, the damp grass brushing against my ankles. I kept my eyes focused on the door, squinting through the pitch-black darkness._

 _I was only several yards away when I tripped on a root and pitched forward, gasping and stopping myself just before I tumbled right onto my face. Then I froze, staring up at the front porch with bated breath._

 _Nothing._

 _I exhaled in relief and kept going, not stopping until I reached the front door. I was in the clear. Maybe Macy was right. Maybe I shouldn't worry so much…after all, sneaking out really wasn't that hard._

 _Then I eased open the front door and slipped inside, and as I closed it, the creak resonated through the house._

 _I swore I could actually feel my heart stop beating. The front door creaked. The freaking front door_ creaked. _How did I not remember that?_

 _But maybe no one heard. Maybe it was too late, everyone was asleep and it wasn't loud enough to –_

 _"_ _Viola?"_

 _"_ _Shit," I whispered, a word that Macy had recently started using, so I'd picked it up, too. Around my friends it made me sound mature, like I really was about to start high school in just a few short months._

 _But in the silence of my house, I felt like a little kid playing dress up._

 _Frantically, I yanked the sweater draped over my arm on over my crop top just as my sister walked around the corner, wearing pajamas and pushing up her glasses. "What are you doing?"_

 _I just about jumped out of my skin. "Nothing!" I said, although it came out more like a scream. I glanced at the stairs and clapped my hand over my mouth._

 _Mona's eyes widened, and I knew it was over. I was caught. "Where were you? Why are you sneaking out?"_

 _I rolled my eyes, despite myself, and looked over at the clock above the television. It was after two-thirty in the morning. "I'm not sneaking out. I'm sneaking back in."_

 _"_ _Where were you?" she asked, watching me curiously. "Were you at a party?"_

 _I folded my arms and sighed. Sometimes I felt like I was about ten years older than my older sister. "Yes, Mona. I was at a party."_

 _"_ _Whose party?"_

 _"God, would you quit acting like Mom?" I snapped under my breath, hopping up onto the first stair. "Some kid in your class. Me and Macy and a couple others got invited. Noel somebody?"_

 _"_ _You were invited to Noel Kahn's party?" she said, and I hesitated, taken aback by the hurt look on her face. "Really?"_

 _I shrugged, brushing my hair out of my face. "I guess. It was mostly ninth graders, though, I didn't really know anyone else." I left out the fact that Alison and her posse had been there as well. Actually, I'd spent most of the night dragging Macy from room to room, trying to avoid them. As much as I hated to admit it, Alison still scared the crap out of me._

 _"_ _I heard about the party," Mona said softly, not meeting my eyes. "I wasn't invited."_

 _I winced, my stomach dropping. Oh. In one short conversation, I'd gone from feeling on top of the world to feeling like the worst sister ever. "We could've gone together. I didn't think you were into parties."_

 _"_ _I would be," she mumbled, tugging on one of her pigtails. "If I ever got to go to any."_

 _I bit my lip, watching my sister play with her hair. And then, all at once, an idea hit me. "Come on," I hissed, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the stairs. "I'll make you a deal. If you promise not to tell Mom about me sneaking out, I'll help you get invited to the next big party."_

 _"_ _What does that mean?" Mona whispered, following me into my room. I shut the door quietly and flicked on the light._

 _"_ _Sit down," I ordered, gesturing to the stool in front of my vanity. She did as I said, and I moved to stand behind her, smiling into the mirror. "You need a new look," I declared, nodding to myself, "I think, now that you're in high school. The pigtails just aren't cutting it."_

 _"_ _I'm not sure – " Mona protested, but I leaned down and quickly pulled the hair ties out of her hair, which fell in waves down her shoulders._

 _I stepped back, a bit stunned. "See? I forgot how pretty your hair is."_

 _She ran a hand through her hair, her brow furrowed. "I don't know, Viola…"_

 _"_ _You need new glasses, too," I continued, on a roll now. I bounced a little on my heels, excited. A few months ago, Macy had let me redo her makeup. I'd forgotten how much I liked giving people makeovers. "Or contacts, or something. No offense, but those kind of make you look too young. And here." I ran over to my closet and rifled through it, pulling out a dark purple spaghetti strap top. "Wear this next time you go out. To the store, to the mall, anywhere you might see kids from school. Wear it."_

 _Mona turned away from the mirror, already tying her hair back again. "I don't think I can do this."_

 _Deflated, I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled my knees up to my chest. "Sure you can. You just said you wanted to start getting invited to parties. This is what you have to do."_

 _"_ _I want to be popular," my sister said, standing and turning back to look at herself in the mirror again. "But not as badly as I used to. Not badly enough to change who I am to make it happen."_

 _I winced, suddenly feeling bad. I hadn't thought that was what I'd been trying to make her do. But I guess in a way, it had been. Guiltily, I fiddled with my opal ring. "You're right. I'm sorry. And you shouldn't feel bad about yourself. You look fine. And parties are pretty lame, anyway."_

 _Mona smiled, putting her hand on the doorknob. "Don't worry about it, Viola. One day people will see me for who I really am."_

 _…_

"It's weird." I laugh a little, leaning back against a tree and folding my arms over my legs. "She spent so long worrying about what Alison and everyone else thought of her. But starting that night…it was like she suddenly had this new confidence. It was amazing. But then Alison went missing and…" I trail off, shrugging.

Mike glances over at me. He's been sitting on a rock a few feet away, listening silently to my whole story, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and a little raspy. "She got what she always wanted."

I whip my head up, recalling that awful memory from the night of Alison's disappearance and feeling my heart begin to race. "What?"

"Popularity," he clarifies, holding out his hands, and I breathe out, relaxing back against the bark.

"Right." I smile as my heart rate slows back to normal. "God, I remember the day that Mona and Hanna first showed up at school with their new makeovers. I lost count of how many people came up to me and said, 'Is _that_ your sister?' But she seemed happy, finally. I was really proud."

"I remember that day, too," Mike says, looking up at the tops of the trees, which are mostly bare. It's early December and it's freezing, but we still come here almost every day, to sit by this stupid tree even though there's never anything in the knothole. It feels wrong not to. "I was standing with a bunch of my buddies when they walked down the hall, and I couldn't look away."

I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. "You had a crush on Mona even back then?"

"No," he says, and for a second turns bright red. But then he grins. "I had a crush on Hanna."

My mouth drops open. " _Hanna?_ " I demand, laughing. "For real? Oh my god."

He nods, looking completely embarrassed but still smiling a little. "Don't tell anyone this, but she was my first kiss. I guess I like girls who are different from the rest."

My laughter subsides and I smile faintly down at my lap, feeling sadness start to creep in once again. Forcing back tears, I chip at my dark red nail polish and mutter, "Well, Mona was definitely different."

After a long moment of silence, I glance up. Mike is staring at the ground, and his face has gone pale. "What?" I ask, startled.

"You know what my biggest regret is? About all of this?" he says quietly, and I lean forward to hear. The wind has picked up a bit, and I raise my hand to press my woolen hat down over my ears. "I never got to tell her that I loved her."

Ouch. I'm pretty sure my heart just cracked down the middle.

"Mike," I sigh, scooting over and putting my hand on his shoulder. "She knew you did. And she loved you, too, I know it. That's why she trusted you to keep this secret."

"Sometimes I wish I didn't know," he says flatly, staring straight ahead. "It might make this easier to accept."

I hesitate, battling with my own indecision. For a moment, I agree, realizing that it would be easier if I didn't know the truth, about Mona's plan with "A" to fake her death. I still would have lost my sister, but then maybe I wouldn't still be sitting below this empty tree, waiting for the hope that's never going to come.

But I ultimately shake my head, closing my eyes. "I'm glad that I know," I announce. "I'm sick of being kept in the dark all the time. The more I know about 'A,' the better, because when I find the person who did this…whether it's Alison or someone I've never even met…" Suddenly furious, I grab a stick from the damp ground and snap it between my hands. "I swear to god, I'm going to kill them."

Mike is watching me a little fearfully. "You're the only person I've got left," he mutters, resting his head back against a tree and closing his eyes. "So don't do anything stupid."

I raise my eyebrows at that. Out of all people, I never would have guessed that Mike Montgomery would become my new best friend. "What about Aria?"

"Aria?" He lets out a harsh laugh, narrowing his eyes at me. "Are you joking? She hasn't cared about me in a long time."

I chew on my thumbnail, unsure how to respond to that. "I'm sure that's not true," I say quietly, but he just snorts, not even bothering to reply.

We sit in silence for another ten minutes. Once I manage to chip the rest of the nail polish off of my thumb, I heave myself off of the wet leaves and brush off my pants. "I have to go," I say, jumping up to check the knothole one last time, even though I checked when I got here. My fingers brush against the bark and I leap down from the branch. "Are you coming?"

Mike looks up at me. His eyes are wet, and he blinks quickly. "I think I'm gonna hang out for a while longer."

I shrug and pick up my bag. "Whatever." I turn to the pathway of now-permanently trampled leaves and push a branch out of my way. Then I glance back and smile, to try and lighten the mood. "You'd better not catch a cold out here, Michelangelo."

...

 **Again, please let me know what you think! Your reviews brighten my day. Next, two months have passed, and Viola's anger and grief finally bubble over into a major confrontation. Also, "A" is back...with a threat that's bigger than ever.**


	47. Chapter 47

**Thanks to RHatch89, Pinkpoodle8, karma3825, and nick2951 for reviewing! Dark Viola? Funny you should mention that...Don't forget to drop me a review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 47

It's been two and a half months.

Actually, it's been two months, two weeks, and three days since I lost my sister. But who's counting?

I am, because that's all I have the energy to do anymore. It took nearly a month for the weight of Mona's death to finally hit me, right around the time that my mother finally snapped out of it and started acting like nothing is wrong, besides watching me like a hawk. So at least not everyone in my family is acting like a depressed slug.

I'm still making good grades, only because going to school and doing homework are two things to keep my mind off of everything else. The good news is that I haven't heard one word from "A." Letting me grieve in peace, maybe. How thoughtful. Although that might have something to do with the fact that it's become increasingly obvious that Alison was the one sending those messages to begin with.

The bad news is that I've barely heard from anyone else, either. Alison was arrested a month ago. Somehow the police found a camera planted inside the vent in our living room. I know that it was Mona who planted it there – she needed to make sure that the cops could find proof of "A" – disguised as Ali – "killing" her.

And that is exactly what they did find. They asked me if I wanted to see the video. I declined. That is probably the last thing I ever want to see.

Other than the fact that Alison is in jail and the other girls are convinced that she's the one behind Mona's murder, I have no idea what they're up to. They used to come around fairly often, especially Hanna, to see how I was doing, but I never had very much to say.

What can you say? I'm _not_ fine, I'm not fine because my sister was murdered, and I can't tell you anything more than that because I was sworn to secrecy. Thanks for stopping by.

I'm sitting in the little brick alcove by the quad, my knees pulled up to my chest as I watch Emily, Aria, Hanna, and Spencer at one of the tables, having lunch. I think about going over to join them. For the first time, I have no doubt that they'd accept me into their group without question. It's kind of ironic that this is also the first time that I have no desire to talk to them.

After all, "A" is Alison and Alison is in jail. What more is there to talk about? My friendship, if you could even call it that, with those girls was purely based on finding out who "A" is.

I spot Mike making his way through the quad and leap up, grabbing my bag and heading over to talk to him. Lately we've been spending a good amount of time together. He's the only one who really gets it, what I'm going through, because he's going through it to, albeit in a different way.

"Hey," I say, walking up to him and adjusting the black beanie that I'm wearing. Oh. That's another thing. This time three months ago, I barely had any black clothes in my wardrobe. Now that's pretty much all I wear. It seems unfair of me to wear flashy dresses and heels when my sister no longer can.

"Hey," Mike replies, stopping and waiting for me to catch up to him. He's looking just as rough as I probably am, with red-rimmed eyes and pale skin.

"So what do you think?" I ask, hugging my binders to my chest. "Did Alison really do it?"

"Do what?" he says harshly. "Kill Mona, or kill Bethany?"

I cringe at his tone and shrug, biting my lip. "Uh, I don't know. Both?" He shakes his head but doesn't respond, so I go on, lowering my voice, "They dropped the charges against Spencer."

"You know what?" he explodes, a little too loudly. A few people turn to look. "I don't even think I care who killed her. I just want to know where her body is."

"So does my mom," I say quietly, hoping that he'll get the hint and lower his voice. "That's all she wants."

"Is that what you want?" he asks, finally speaking at a normal volume.

I was not ready for that question. I chew on my lip for a moment, thinking this through. "I don't know," I finally admit. "I mean, body or no body, we all know she's dead."

He turns away, flinching, and I'm surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. I don't think I've ever seen a boy cry before. "I'm sorry, Mike," I say, reaching out and touching his arm. "I know how much you loved her. And I did too…she was my best friend."

I don't realize until I speak the words how true they are. Macy was never a real best friend, just someone for me to survive high school with. And Hanna, and Spencer, and the others…their trust in me only went so far.

"A" took practically everyone from me. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Mona was pretty much the only person I had left.

And "A" – _Alison_ – took her away from me, too. Nearly shaking with anger now, I look up, only to find that Mike has walked away, his head down.

I sigh and examine my nails as an excuse to blink back tears. People are already avoiding me in the halls, giving me weird looks as if they expect me to burst into tears at any moment. I don't need to fuel that fire.

"Viola!"

I spin around just as Aria comes striding up to me. She doesn't look happy, and I glance around her, noticing that Spencer, Hanna, and Emily are all watching. "Hey," I say cautiously, caught off guard by her expression. "What's up?"  
"Why were you talking to Mike?" she demands immediately, planting her hands on her hips.

Whoa. "Um, I was just – "

She cuts me off, her eyes wide. "What, now that Mona's not in the picture you think you're next in line? I saw everything."

I stare at her in silence, bewildered. She saw everything? What does she mean, she saw –

 _Oh._ I think back to my conversation with Mike, remembering reaching out and touching his arm. I meant it purely out of comfort – I could never have any feelings for the boy my sister loved – but I guess it might have looked differently to an onlooker.

But suddenly, I'm so furious that I can't bring myself to say any of that. It's like two months of grief and anger are just about to explode out of me, like I can't hold it in anymore. The words are bursting out of my mouth at nearly top volume before I have time to think. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Aria takes a step back, her eyes widening, though she still looks angry. "What?"

"What do you think you're talking about, 'now that Mona's out of the picture?' Like you actually think I'm _glad_ that she's gone?"

"No!" Aria says in surprise, looking almost stricken, but I don't care. "I'm not saying that at all, I just saw you with – "

"Mike," I finish, my voice shaking. "Your brother. The only person besides me who gives a crap about what happened to my sister."

Aria is staring at me, silently, and I'm just about to stomp away when Spencer leaps up from the table, striding over to stand beside Aria. "Hey! You can't say that."

"It's not true," Hanna adds, as she and Emily rush over as well. "We care about what happened to Mona just as much as you do."

"No you don't!" I say, aware that I sound hysterical and that everyone else in the quad is staring. "You never did! You let Alison treat her like a punching bag for years, you caused her to become 'A' in the first place, and you never made any effort to include her – _or me_ – into your little group."

Emily opens her mouth angrily, looking ready to argue, but I cut her off. I'm not finished. "You girls walk around here acting so innocent, like you've done nothing to deserve what you've gotten, when all you do is lie and exclude and keep stupid secrets. And you know what?" I step closer and lower my voice, so the gaping people around us won't be able to hear. "Maybe 'A' is right. Maybe Mona's death really is your fault."

I can practically hear their shocked silence behind me as I stride away.

…

Since my life is what it is, I'm aware that a new storm is always brewing. Things are too mundane right now to remain that way.

It seems fitting that it's raining as I sit at my desk one night about a week after my confrontation with Aria and the others, trying to get homework done. I have music blaring from my phone, something loud and fast because the silence in my house otherwise is unbearable.

I feel like an only child, and I hate it.

Getting the wrong answer to yet another math problem, I groan in frustration and press the other end of my pencil to the paper, erasing so hard that it nearly rips. This is ridiculous. It's a Friday night, and I'm sitting at home doing homework. That's really what my life has become.

I'm just about to push the paper aside and give up when the music abruptly stops, my phone chiming with a new text. I pick up the phone with a feeling of foreboding. No one has texted me recently. This must be from one of the girls, and considering none of them have even looked in my direction since I flipped out on Aria the other day, it must be about something serious.

I open the message and can only stare in shock, because it's not from one of the girls. It's from the one person I never expected to hear from again.

 _Tick tock. Come alone or you'll be sorry. –A_

There's a picture attached to the message, but I can only focus on the words at first. Alison is locked up in a cell. And I'm pretty sure you can't send texts from the old-fashioned wall phone in the prison.

Alison isn't "A."

My finger hovers above the attachment. I'm terrified, absolutely sure that I am going to see a picture of my sister's corpse. "A" has to have it, right? And I'm not sure I can handle that.

But time is running out, apparently, and I need to know. Sucking in an uneven breath, I open the image and gasp.

It's not Mona.

It's Justin, sitting in a familiar-looking chair, a gag in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back. His eyes are closed, but his head is upright, leading me to believe that he's still alive, if unconscious. Part of a desk occupies the corner of the image, and I realize where I've seen that chair before.

It's from my school. "A" has Justin trapped in the school.

But all of that information flashes through my mind in one instant, because in the next I'm staring at the other thing in the picture, and I can't think of anything else.

A gloved hand extends from the image, looking only inches away from Justin's neck. And it's holding a knife.

...

 **I'm interested to hear what you guys think is going to happen next, so leave your theories in the reviews! Next, Viola rushes to the school to save Justin...but what she finds isn't what she's expecting.**


	48. Chapter 48

**Thanks to nick2951, RHatch89, and karma3825 for reviewing! This is a pretty exciting chapter, and leads into one of my favorite arcs of the story. I'll update again either when I get to five reviews, or after about a week, so please let me know what you think!**

Chapter 48

I can handle this. I can totally handle this. I've handled worse and I can handle this.

Or at least that's what I tell myself as I pull on a black t-shirt, leggings, and sneakers. My hair is back in a ponytail, but my black beanie is stuffed into the pocket of my jacket. I don't want to look completely like a criminal when I leave my house.

I stare once more at the picture of Justin. It's after seven o'clock. What does "A" mean, "tick tock?" How much time do I have?

I pull on my jacket and race into the hallway. "Mom!" I call, peering in through her open bedroom door. "Mom, where are you?"

"I'm in here," her teary voice responds, and I spin around, rushing back down the hallway.

My mother is sitting in Mona's bedroom, on the edge of her bed. She's holding an old stuffed animal, her eyes shining with tears.

Crap. There's no way I can rush out now.

"Um," I stammer, walking in and forcing myself not to look around. I haven't let myself come in here since she died. I suddenly feel claustrophobic, like the walls are closing in and something is pushing down on my chest. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine," my mom says with a forced laugh, setting down the stuffed animal. "Some days I just…it just gets too hard."

I nod, ducking my head and trying to keep the tears at bay. "I know, Mom. I miss her, too."

She stands up, running her hand along the bookshelf. "Your sister was a good person, Viola."

A laugh escapes out of me before I can stop it. "No," I say, and my mother looks up at me, hurt. But I can't help it. "No, Mom, she wasn't. And that's what I loved about her."

My mother laughs a little, too, thank goodness. She wipes at her eyes, focusing in on the keys in my hand. "Are you going somewhere?"

All at once, my mind snaps back to the present. The "A" message. Justin. The knife. My stomach lurches. "Um, yeah," I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I was going to go meet Macy at the Brew for a while."

This is the best excuse I can think of, and it works. My mom smiles, clearly just glad to see that I'm getting out of the house for once. "Good. You haven't spent time with her in a while. Just…" She pauses, wiping once more at her eyes. "Just make sure you're back by nine, okay?"

"Okay," I agree, even though I know that I'm not going to have any control over that. "I will."

My mother suddenly walks over, enveloping me in a hug. "Be careful," she whispers, her voice wavering.

I feel a rush of sympathy, and hug her back, tightly. She has no idea that I'm about to walk into something extremely dangerous. After a moment I force myself to pull away. _Tick tock._ I can't waste any more time.

To make up for the ten minutes that I lost, I drive dangerously fast to the high school, screeching into the parking lot and not even bothering to make sure I'm parked between the lines. It doesn't matter. All of the lights are off, no one's here. Even the janitors appear to have gone home.

The darkness makes this worse, I decide, wishing that I'd thought to bring a flashlight. I use the light from my phone instead as I get out of my car and jog over to the back entrance. I bend down to inspect it. There's no keyhole. How am I supposed to get in?

Frustrated, I grab the door handle and pull. It flies open, nearly slamming right into me. Of course, I realize, rushing inside without a second thought. Of course "A" would leave a door unlocked, somehow.

But I have a feeling that it's not all going to be this easy.

Using the dull light from my phone to guide me, I make my way down the dark hallway of the science wing, past the biology and chemistry labs. My footsteps echo around the empty space, my shadow, barely visible, stretching in front of me.

I never realized how creepy the school really is. During the day, with the lights on and students flooding through the hallways, it seems so different. But I feel like a sitting duck right now, walking down a long, straight hallway with locked doors on either side of me. There's nowhere for me to run. I should have brought a weapon, especially because I know that "A" has one.

Geez, I'm stupid.

I creep down to the end of the hallway, right near the office, and peer around the corner. At least there's no screams of pain or other horrible noises, but on the other hand…the silence might be worse.

I'm terrified to make a sound, but it's clear that creeping around through the dark hallways isn't going to get me anywhere. "A" doesn't seem to be offering me any sort of hints, which is unnerving. Usually "A" revels in their little riddles and games.

I duck into the English wing and call out, my voice shaking with nerves, "Hello?" The word bounces against the walls, echoing through the empty hallway. I clear my throat and try again. "Justin?"

Nothing.

I feel a chill up my spine. I almost wish that someone in a black hoodie would dart out from around a corner, or that creepy music would start blaring. Anything but this feeling of unknowing.

I round the corner, heading toward the cluster of math classrooms, when I catch sight of an open door at the end of the hall. A light shines out of it.

A combination of relief and fear rushes through me, and I hold my phone out like it's a weapon, advancing toward the classroom, which was Ezra's, back when he still taught here.

Speaking of Ezra, I saw him with Aria last week, in what looked like a pretty intimate meeting at the Brew. Maybe that's part of why I snapped at her at school. I still can't believe she would actually go back to the guy who stalked her for years, all in the name of writing a freaking _book_.

My nerves light up as I reach the open classroom. Holding my breath, I flatten myself against the wall and slowly side-step closer, until I can turn my head and peer into the room.

It's empty. Or it looks that way. "A" could be hiding around any corner with Justin in their clutches, one wrong move away from slitting his throat.

Frightened by this thought, I move slowly into the room, turning in every direction. Everything seems in order. There's a large cabinet in the back corner, but it's wide open and empty aside from a few stacks of paper and notebooks. The blinds on the windows are closed tight. It's all in place, aside from the door being open and the light being on.

I frown deeply, my brow wrinkling as I move to stand in the center of the room. This is so weird. Every bone in my body is screaming at me that this is a trap, that I need to get out of here, _now._ Justin is nowhere to be found and neither is "A." There is something really, really wrong with this.

But I have one last hope. Perhaps "A" forgot to take his cell phone when they kidnapped him. Even if he doesn't answer, the ringtone might be enough to lead me to him.

I scroll through the contacts on my phone and select his name, thankful that I hadn't deleted his contact after our breakup. I guess I'd had a feeling that it wouldn't be our last time talking. And I was right, in a way.

I press the phone to my ear as it rings, the sound amplified in the silent room. On the third ring, a very confused voice answers. "Viola?"

He doesn't necessarily sound like someone being held hostage, but I'm not convinced. "Justin, hey."

There is a long pause before he responds. "Uh…what's up?"

This is way more awkward than I was expecting. But then again, I was not expecting him to answer at all. I try to think of some excuse as to why I would be calling my ex out of nowhere, but my mind is drawing a blank.

I finally realize that it doesn't matter. This isn't the time for small talk, so I get right to the chase. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm at home," he says slowly, and sure enough, I hear a faint faucet running in the background. "Why?"

I don't have an answer for this, but I'm so shocked that I don't even try to think of one. Instead I let my arm drop to my side, absent-mindedly ending the call without saying another word.

This was a trap. Justin was never here, never tied up or in any danger. Somehow "A" edited that picture just to get me here.

But…why? There's no sign of anyone or anything. If "A" was going to do something to me, why wouldn't they have done it already?

As if triggered by my thoughts, the light goes out, bathing the room in darkness. I let out a yelp of surprise. Then the door slams shut.

I gasp and whirl around, unable to see a thing in the sudden total blackness. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, slowly adjusting to the dark. I'm just reaching for my phone, to get at least some light in the room, when a shadow passes across the wall in front of me.

Crying out, I stumble around once again to face away from the door. There's nothing there, but I'm not dumb. I know that some sort of movement had to have caused that shadow. I'm not alone in here.

"H – hello?" I call out, my voice wavering helplessly. I ball my hands into fists and turn in a complete circle, my eyes scanning over the entire classroom, every desk and chair, every corner, trying to make out every shape I can in the dark. "Who's there?"

A dark figure pops out from behind a desk in the back row, and I scream, instantly recognizing the formless black hoodie. "Please," I cry, numb to the tears streaming down my face. "Please don't hurt me."

I expect the figure to charge me, but they don't, only walking toward me slowly and purposefully. This is somehow even more terrifying. I run to the door, grabbing the handle and pulling. It doesn't budge.

"A" stops beside the first row of desks, and I can somehow tell despite the lack of features that they are facing me. "No!" I scream, jiggling the door handle desperately. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, pounding wildly. I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. I think I'm going to be sick. "Please!"

I turn back to the door, yanking with everything I have. I'm vaguely aware of my phone falling out of my pocket, crashing to the floor, but I don't even care. A broken cell phone is the least of my problems.

I pull again, and the door gives a little. I let out a gasp. It's not locked. There's something blocking the other side. "Come on," I gasp, but before I can make any use of this realization, something heavy and hard connects with the back of my head.

White dots appear in my vision and my knees give out, sending me slumping right to the floor as pain explodes in my head. This is it. "A" is going to kill me, just like they killed my sister. I'll never find out who they are, who has tormented me for years.

It's over.

My vision is swimming and my head feels like it's going to split open from the pain. I crack my eyes open, trying to ignore the feeling of my skull splitting open, and squint through the blurriness of my vision.

A figure leans over me, the hoodie or mask or whatever they have on completely obstructing their face. But I do make out several tendrils of blond hair peeking out from under the hood.

"Alison?" I gasp out weakly, the word draining the rest of the strength that I have left. The figure disappears from view, and a moment later so does everything else, as my vision fades to complete darkness.

...

 **Again, please review and let me know what you think! Next, Viola wakes up to find herself in a very familiar place. Any theories?**


	49. Chapter 49

**Well, I was a little reluctant to update after only getting two reviews again on the last chapter - thanks to nick2951 and RHatch89 for sticking with me! It's really disappointing that so many people have stopped reading and reviewing...I hate sounding "desperate" for reviews or anything, but the primary reason why I upload to this site is to get feedback on my writing, and only getting two or three reviews per chapter isn't really helping me do that. So please let me know what you think, especially with this upcoming chapter - it's a big one!**

Chapter 49

I'm dead.

I'm totally dead.

There's absolutely no way that I'm not dead.

Right?

I feel myself awaken but I'm too afraid to open my eyes. There's a pounding in my head, right between my eyes. I know it's going to get worse the second I open them, and anyway, I'm too afraid of what I might see.

Wait a minute. If I was really dead, I wouldn't be having this amount of pain, would I?

The last thing I remember is being locked in a dark classroom with "A," of them peering down at me after whacking me in the back of the head. I blacked out, that I know for sure.

I shift a little, trying to get a grasp of where I am without having to open my eyes. Whatever I'm lying on isn't quite soft, but is definitely more comfortable than the hard floor that I collapsed on in the school. Somehow, "A" managed to move me.

This thought is even more terrifying. I need to take a look around. The sooner I face whatever inevitably terrible situation I'm in now, the sooner I can figure out a way out of it.

I roll onto my back and push myself up onto my elbows, forcing my eyes open. The light is dim, but it's enough to make me squint. How long was I out?

It's a small room, with stone gray walls and a wooden floor. I take a moment to focus my eyes, then glance around. There's a gray metal door to my right, and a window on the wall to my left…a window with bars across it, and nothing but darkness on the other side. There must be something pushed right up against it.

I look down, ignoring the dizziness that it causes. I'm laying on a bed…if you can call it that. It's more like a small cot, with white sheets and a single pillow. The only other furniture in the room is a small wooden dresser with a mirror above it and a rickety desk and chair, with another chair just like it against the wall by the door.

There's a familiarity to all of this, but I don't discover what it is until I look down at myself. My black t-shirt and leggings have been replaced by a white gown…like the sort of thing you'd find in a hospital. Or a mental institution.

I'm in Radley.

 _I'm in Radley._ I sit up so fast that I'm sure I can feel my brain thumping against the back of my head. "Oh my god," I gasp, and my voice sounds loud in the small, quiet space.

The room looks almost identical to Mona's, when she stayed here, only the arrangement is slightly different. All of the rooms probably have the same dreary, depressing furniture.

I shove off the white sheet and jump out of bed. Aside from the chilly, thin hospital gown and, hopefully, underwear – yep, underwear, thank goodness – I'm not wearing anything, though a white bathrobe hangs on a hook on the back of the door. Shivering, both from the cold and from fear, I wrap my arms around myself.

Why would "A" put me here, in Radley? I think for a moment that I must be dead, or dreaming, maybe. This must all be some horrible nightmare. I pinch myself on the arm and bite back a cry of pain.

I'm not dreaming, though I _am_ embarrassed. I'm suddenly glad that I'm alone in here, where no one else can see the panic that must be evident on my face.

But even more important than the _why_ is the _how?_ How could "A" have possibly gotten me in here, without any of the staff noticing that an empty room was suddenly occupied?

Unless…

Maybe after they knocked me out, "A" got me into whatever crazy car they must drive and took me to Radley. It would all fit. They carried me in, claimed they found me somewhere or I snapped and knocked myself unconscious, and they put me in a room for a psych hold, the same kind of thing Spencer was here for.

That must be it, I decide, biting a hangnail nervously and feeling my panic begin to subside. Okay. I can deal with this. Soon enough, a nurse or doctor or someone will come in here. I can explain what happened – I can finally tell the truth – and this will all be over. And if worse comes to worst, I can spend a few days here. It's probably safer than being in Rosewood, now that I think about it.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I walk over to the door and pull on the knob, just for good measure. It's shut tight.

Figures. I roll my eyes. Clearly Radley has tightened up on its security since I was last here. I run a hand through my hair and grimace. I must look terrible after everything that just happened. I don't even know how long it's been since I was knocked out in the school. No wonder the staff had me committed.

I walk over to the dresser and position myself in front of the mirror. My hair is tied back in a ponytail, but a loose one, and I pull it free.

Then I scream, leaping back and nearly tripping over the end of the bed.

My hair is blond.

"Holy _crap,_ " I mutter, more fascinated than scared. I step closer to the mirror and smooth my fingers through my hair, pushing it in front of my shoulders. There is no doubt about it. My straight hair, which was dark brown the last time I checked, is now golden blond. Even my roots have no trace of brown in them.

Whoa. I step back and examine myself in the mirror, looking over my face and body. Other than the hair – and I notice with a start that even my _eyebrows_ have been dyed blond – I look completely the same. It doesn't look like "A" did anything else to me before dumping me here.

But why? I stare at my reflection, barely able to recognize myself with such a drastically different appearance. Why in the world would "A" want to dye my hair? This is really weird.

I glance over at the window and notice that there's not just something pushed up against it, blocking out the light. It's a wall of dirt. I reach through the bars, pressing my hand against it. The dirt is packed so tightly that I can't even scrape any off.

What could that be? I don't remember ever seeing anything like this anywhere else in Radley before. I feel my heart, which had started to slow, speed up again. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

"Hello?" I yell, my voice hoarse after so much screaming. I pound on the metal door, which seems almost sealed shut. "Is anyone there? I need help!" I press my ear to the door to listen, but everything is eerily silent. No screams or laughter from other patients. No beeping of monitors. No nurses' heels clacking down the tile floor.

The thought pops back into my head, stronger this time. Something is wrong.

My breathing coming fast, I sit down hard on the edge of the bed, twirling a strand of my new blond hair around my finger. I have no idea how I'm going to get out of here. What if no doctors know that I'm here? What if this is some room in an abandoned wing of the hospital, where no one goes? I may be trapped in here forever.

The click of the door opening is quiet, but in the silence of the room it sounds deafening. I leap to my feet and spin around, watching the metal door swing open slowly. I brace myself, my knuckles whitening as I ball my hands into fists. I'm ready for a nurse or someone else willing to help me, but I'm just as ready for "A."

But no one stands on the other side of the door, and the cool, chilling female voice does not come from the hallway.

 _"_ _Welcome. Willkommen. Bienvenidos."_

...

 **Again, please let me know what you think. I'd really like to start uploading more frequently again, but unless I start getting some more feedback, it'll probably stay at once a week. Next, Viola begins to realize where she is when she is reunited with someone she never thought she'd see again.**


	50. Chapter 50

**Thank you guys so much for the five reviews so quickly! I really appreciate it...and keep it up! Hearing your feedback just makes me want to update sooner. I haven't responded to reviews in a while, so I figured this is as good a time as any:**

 **Fun With Typing - I was so excited to see your review! I've missed hearing from you!**

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 **RHatch89 - Oh yes! I was wondering if people would be surprised or not that I decided to go ahead and put Viola in the dollhouse.**

 **Guest - Thank you for the kind words! I love hearing from new reviewers and I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the story!**

 **Pinkpoodle8 - Thanks, and I hope you had a happy birthday! It was so nice to read your feedback again!**

Chapter 50

I'm so scared that I can barely breathe. I scoot back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest as the almost automated-sounding female voice speaks again. "Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway."

It sounds like it's coming from everywhere, all at once. I tilt my chin up, looking frantically around the room and ceiling. My eyes land on a little black video camera, secured to the wall in the corner, right up by the ceiling. A tiny red light glows on it, making it look almost threatening.

Oh my god. I'm being watched.

"Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway," the voice speaks again. It sounds louder this time, but I know that's just due to my own panic. I press my hands to my chest, shaking all over as I slowly get up from the bed and move toward the door.

I peek outside, gripping the metal door in case I need to slam it closed. But I can't stop staring at what's outside.

I am most definitely not in Radley. Instead of the white tile floor is a dirt brown one, with yellow movie-theater styled lights lining the edges. The lighted pathway, I guess. It stretches on for what seems like forever, with only a few closed brown doors both on my side of the wall and the opposing side.

"Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway," the smooth voice says again.

"I'm going," I snap, stepping out into the hallway and contemplating shutting the door to the room – _my room._ No. I have no idea what is going to await me at the end of this hallway. I may need to run back there.

I leave the door halfway open and start down the hallway, squeezing my shoulder blades together and trying to make myself as small as possible. There are a few other cameras along the walls, and I stare at each one. I think back to the dirt outside the window as I walk, and a realization hits me.

I'm underground.

Claustrophobia slams into me like a train, and I pause for a moment, leaning my hand against one of the brown walls and trying to catch my breath. What is this, an old underground bunker that "A" has converted into some sort of house?

No, I think, shaking my head and starting to move again, before that voice can give that stupid command again. Not just a house. A _dollhouse._

I feel like I've been walking forever, but at the same time the door at the very end of the hallway is upon me all too soon. I grab the doorknob and push, and it opens easily. I brace myself and step into the room.

I feel a chill up my spine, and not just from the cold. I'm standing in Alison's living room. Everything is exactly the same. The wallpaper, the big black piano, the sofa and chairs around the table, even the family photos.

I take in a sharp breath as I gaze around, unable to believe this. This must have taken months, even years to put together, not to mention what all of this must have cost. This doesn't seem like some normal "A" plan, just to freak someone out and then let them go.

This feels permanent. And so far, there doesn't seem to be a way out.

I finger the end of a strand of my hair, suddenly uneasy. "A" dyed my hair blond, and now I'm standing in the DiLaurentis' living room. Am I supposed to be…Alison?

I'm so creeped out by the décor, and by that awful thought, that I don't notice the person sitting in a chair, her back to me, until she turns a page in the book she's holding. I nearly jump out of my skin, but relief floods through me. I'm not alone, and judging by the size of the girl, this is not the same person who kidnapped me.

I take a few steps closer, my eyes widening. Her hair is blond and curly, and I can see the bright yellow ruffles of her shirt. A shirt that looks exactly like the one Alison was wearing the night she disappeared.

Holy crap.

It can't be. Ali's in jail, wearing an orange jumpsuit, not a yellow shirt. But then again…if "A" can build all of this, they certainly can be capable of breaking someone out of jail, can't they?

My heart feels like it's going to pound right out of my chest. I step closer, and when I speak, the word comes out quiet and wavering. "Um…A-Alison?"

The girl jumps a little, like she hadn't been aware of my presence, and sets the book down on the coffee table. Then she stands and turns toward me, and I swear to God, I almost black out. Everything goes a little fuzzy.

My sister is standing in front of me. My sister, who has been _dead for over two months,_ is standing in front of me, almost unrecognizable with hair just as blond as mine. "I'm so glad you're here," she says with a smile.

I stumble forward, reaching out and grabbing her hand. I'm actually surprised when my hand doesn't pass right through hers. "Mona," I gasp, unable to stop staring.

She pulls her hand out of mine abruptly, her brow furrowing. "What? Geez, I know we never _officially_ met, but I thought I described myself better than that…" She reaches up, running a hand through her hair. "It's me. Alison."

This is by far the strangest situation I have ever been in. I reach up and pinch myself on the arm again, just for good measure. I am still not dreaming.

"Um," I say just to fill the silence, because Mona is still watching me expectantly, smiling. She's been brainwashed, I realize with a surge of alarm. And it's probably only a matter of time before I am, too.

I reach up, tugging on a strand of my own blond hair. I have no idea what she was just talking about, but I glance at the black monitor in the corner of the room and decide to play along. What is going on here is slowly becoming clear. "Uh, right…Alison."

"I can't believe we're finally getting to meet," Mona gushes, and I suddenly understand why she sounds so strange, so unlike herself. She sounds just like _Alison._ She puts her hands on my shoulders, holding me at arms length. "This is so exciting, like I'm finally meeting my own twin."

I am at a complete loss for words, so I just stare at her. She looks back at me, and for just a moment, something changes in her eyes. But then it's gone and the very Alison-like smile is back, just as three loud chimes echo around the room.

I pull away and wince, resisting the urge to press my hands over my ears at the shrill sound. "What the hell?" I blurt out without thinking.

Mona ignores me and walks over to the coffee table, picking up an old-fashioned tray filled with food and two teacups. "Tea time," she announces, gesturing for me to sit.

"Tea what?" I mutter, but obey because what else am I going to do? Clearly I'm going to have to play along with whatever little game is going on here, until I can figure out if there's an alternative. But so far, it's not looking good.

I grab a cookie off of the silver tray and turn it over in my hand. It looks real, and almost freshly baked, too. But my stomach is churning too badly for me to even think about eating anything, let alone something most likely made by "A." I'd rather starve to death.

Mona sits down across from me, and I set down the cookie, staring blatantly at her as the gravity of what's happening finally begins to sink in. She's alive. I have a sister again.

I can't help but smile, everything else about this situation temporarily forgotten. "I can't believe you're okay," I say, feeling myself choke up a little. I wish more than anything that I could tell my mother. I can't get the imagine of her crying in Mona's room out of my head.

My sister looks down at her lap. "I know. If Mrs. Grunwald hadn't found me in time, I don't know what I would've done."

Her response catapults me back into reality. I remember that name…Grunwald was the woman who pulled Alison out of her own grave.

Ugh.

I'm not sure how much longer I can take this, pretending that I'm sitting here having tea with Alison, in her living room. It's all starting to freak me out, like "A" has concocted this scenario and who knows how many others, and is sitting back watching through the video monitor and laughing…

I leap up, panic suddenly swelling inside of me. I spot a door across the room, different from the one I came in through, and rush toward it. I know it's hopeless – an escape couldn't be this easy - but I'm still caught off-guard when I fling open the door to reveal a brick wall pressed right up against it.

"Oh my god," I mutter, pressing a hand to my chest and leaning my forehead against the brick. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. We're trapped."

The chime, almost like bells, starts up again, and I grimace. "It's time for the game," Mona says once the chimes stop, standing abruptly and walking right out of the room.

Feeling a fresh wave of panic, I run after her, back into the long, dank hallway. I grab onto her arm, barely able to breathe. "Where are you going? What the hell is going on, Mona?"

"Never call me that again," she snaps without even glancing in my direction, yanking her arm out of my grip and walking into a room about halfway down the hallway. I take a deep breath and follow, forcing down my anger.

I'm not sure what I was expecting…maybe some sort of torture room or something. But instead I walk into a child's playroom. It's old-fashioned, filled with creepy old toys like blocks, puppets, and board games, all looking like they're from the early nineties, at least. A set of bunk beds with blue plaid sheets sits in the corner. I get the feeling that this is supposed to mimic a little boy's playroom…but why?

My sister takes a seat at the table so I do as well. I eye the four large plastic cups that sit upside down on the wooden surface. They're each a different, bright color. What is this, some kind of magic act?

Without waiting for permission, I look defiantly up at the camera and reach over, grabbing the cup closest to me and lifting it from the table. But instead of a little magic ball, there's a doll sitting underneath. A doll with black hair and fair skin.

"We're supposed to wait for instructions before we start playing," Mona insists, a little frantically.

I ignore her, picking up the doll and turning it over in my hand. There's something familiar about the look of it, but I don't realize what that is until I take notice of the doll's somewhat eccentric outfit…and the pink streaks in its hair…

"It's Aria," I whisper, mostly to myself. "This is Aria." I throw the doll down on the table and reach for the next cup, knocking it on its side to reveal a second doll, this one with blond hair. "And Hanna."

"Stop!" Mona cries, swatting my hand away. She glances nervously up at the camera, watching us from the corner of the room.

"No!" I yell, leaping up and grabbing the remaining two cups, tossing them aside. Two more dolls, both with dark brown hair. Spencer and Emily. "What?" I go on, spinning around to face the security camera. "Is this some sort of stupid little riddle? You're gonna kidnap them and trap them in here to play this sick little game with us?"

I pause for just a moment to take a breath. My anger is still bubbling, and I'm not done yet. But before I can speak another word, the loudest, shrillest alarm I've ever heard goes off, coming from every direction.

I scream, ducking down and clapping my hands over my ears. All of my senses temporarily disappear. This blows the fire alarm at school way out of the water. It's only been going off for three seconds and it already feels like it's inside my head.

"Oh my god!" I shout above the sound, digging my fingers against my ears.

"We have to go back to our rooms!" Mona screams, and takes off. I run after her, catching up just as she darts into a room across the hallway from mine. It's decorated just like Alison's bedroom, I notice in the brief moment I have to look inside before it closes between us.

The last thing I want is to be alone again, especially in that creepy little room, but if the alternative is listening to this horrible blaring for even one more second, I know that I don't have a choice. I run straight into my room before I give myself any more time to think, and the door swings shut – all on its own – behind me.

The moment the door clicks into place, silence fills the room. I collapse against the side of the cot, my hands dropping down from my ears. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can still feel the alarm reverberating inside of my head, so loud that I can't imagine it ever going away.

I don't want to be alone in here. The room is tiny, so small that I can't help the drastic feeling of claustrophobia. I run to the door and yank, but it doesn't budge. I've been locked in.

"Mona!" I scream, pounding on the door with both hands. There's no response, so I grimace and try again. " _Alison!_ "

After a few more minutes of knocking my fists against the metal door, my hands are too sore to continue. I groan and sink down onto the edge of the pathetic little bed, finally feeling tears start to leak out of my eyes. I'm surprised that it's taken me this long to cry.

We're trapped down here, in some crazy underground bunker. And the only person who knows we're here is the insane stalker who has probably had this plan in the works for months… _years_.

But the worst part is, I have no way to warn the other girls of what seems likely to be in their fate. Suddenly, what's behind the other closed doors around my room becomes obvious. More bedrooms. One for each of them.

I let out one last sob and sit up, rubbing the tears out of my eyes and glaring up at the camera. I'm not going to give this psycho the satisfaction of seeing me so upset. I'm going to find a way out of here, even if I have to dig at the dirt outside the window with only my fingernails.

I jump up, ready to go do just that, when I catch sight of something resting on the dresser. It's a brown package, with a white notecard taped to it. There's a note written on the card, in red, blocky handwriting: _A little welcome home present. –A_

I shudder at the words. This is not my home. This will never be my home. This is hell.

I rip the card into pieces and sweep them all to the floor, turning my attention to the thin package. Something tells me that it is not a good idea to open this. For all I know, it's probably some kind of bomb or drug or something.

I shake that thought from my head, almost laughing at myself. I'm already here. Why would "A" need to drug me now?

Holding my breath, I rip off the brown paper in one quick motion. It's a sketchbook, large but not very thick, with a dull pencil attached. That seems like a stupid idea. If I was any more desperate than I am now, I'd take the tip of that pencil right to my wrist.

Instead, I set it aside and flip through the sketchbook, noting that every page is empty. "Great," I mutter, refusing to look at the camera. "A" is probably watching right now, waiting for me to thank them. The thought fills me with disgust. "Now I can express through _art_ just how much this sucks."

It really is empty. Every single page is blank…except the very last one. There's something written there, but in small black cursive instead of "A's" usual large, unspecific print.

I squint, bringing the book closer to my face to read the words. As soon as I do, I feel the blood drain from my face.

 _Property of Bethany Young._

 _..._

 **Again, please, please keep up the awesome reviewing and let me know what you think! Here is an excerpt from the next chapter: _"I hear the familiar click of the door beginning to open, and I shoot up in bed, clutching the scratchy sheet to my chest and scooting back to the end of the bed, my hands shaking and my heart beginning to pound."_**


	51. Chapter 51

**I hope you all had a wonderful, very merry Christmas! Thank you to everyone who reviewed:**

 **Fun With Typing - One of my biggest goals as a writer is to make people really feel things through my writing. So I guess I succeeded! And that is all explained in this chapter.**

 **RHatch89 - Thanks for your review!**

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 **Diane61 - Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying!**

 **Pinkpoodle8 - Thanks for the review! No, I don't think anything good is going to come out of this situation...**

 **Again, thank you all! Please let me know what you think about this chapter. Also, I have a new poll up on my profile concerning what I should begin writing after this story is finished, so if you guys could check it out and vote, I would really appreciate it!**

Chapter 51

I don't sleep well that night.

I mean, duh. A little over twenty-four hours ago, my entire life was ripped right out of my hands. Not just my life. My entire _identity_.

I'm not Viola Vanderwaal anymore, at least not when "A" is watching. I'm Bethany Young.

I roll over onto my back, my shoulder blades digging uncomfortably into the thin mattress of the cot. If this is what sleeping in the real Radley is like, no wonder it always seems so depressing. This sucks.

But I can't really think about that. I can't keep my mom out of my mind. Are my parents looking for me? They've surely realized that I'm gone by now, especially when I didn't come home from the Brew last night. It seems like ages ago, instead of just approximately a day.

Maybe "A" made it look like I was killed, too, I realize with horror, biting down on my lip so hard that I taste blood. Maybe no one's looking for me…maybe they all think I'm already dead. Oh, god. My parents probably think that both of their daughters have been killed. It feels like a fist has just slammed into my stomach.

I hear the familiar click of the door beginning to open, and I shoot up in bed, clutching the scratchy sheet to my chest and scooting back to the end of the bed, my hands shaking and my heart beginning to pound.

What is "A" going to do to me, in the middle of the night? Or, at least, I think it's the middle of the night. It's dark. It really should be dark all the time, now that I think about it – I'm underground, after all – but the artificial sunlight went out around four hours ago, if I've been keeping track correctly.

The door creaks open. I want to run, to push past "A" and flee, but I feel paralyzed with fear. And anyway, running won't help. There's nowhere to go.

Then my sister leans into the room, shining a flashlight on me. "Get out of bed and come with me," she says quietly. "We don't have much time."

My terror fades, but only into a sense of severe apprehension. Cautiously, I drop the sheet and jump out of bed, following her out of my room and down the hallway. "W-what are we doing?" I ask, my voice shaking just as badly as the rest of me.

Mona doesn't stop walking until we reach the end of the hallway, which then splits into two separate directions. She turns, looking me up and down, and before I can even ask, she flings her arms around me. "I missed you."

I gasp in surprise, then raise my arms, hugging her tightly. "You're not brainwashed," I realize. "You know you're not Alison."

"That's who 'A' wants me to be, so that's who I am when it's watching," she says, pulling away. I notice her use of "it" and realize that she has been here for over two months. What has she been through until I got here? "And you have to be Bethany," she goes on, gripping my arms tightly. "Anytime those cameras are watching, you can't be yourself."

"Or what?" I ask, my voice trembling. I glance around, spotting one of the shiny little black video cameras on the wall a few yards away, and jump.

Mona follows my gaze and shakes her head, not looking surprised at seeing it there. "Just trust me, Viola. I've been through things in the past few months that you can't even imagine."

I look once more at the camera, noticing that its red light is missing. Still perturbed by this, I say nervously, hopping from foot to foot, "Are you nuts? There's a camera right there, we're being watched right this – "

"The generator shuts down for three minutes every night," my sister explains, speaking so quickly that I can barely understand her. "Until it kicks back on, 'A' can't see or hear anything we do."

A rush of adrenaline surges through me at this. This is the best news that I've heard in a long time. "Then what the hell are we standing around here talking for?" I say, practically shouting with enthusiasm now. "Let's find a way out of here!" But even as I say it, I know it's hopeless – if there was a way out, she would have found it by now.

"Save your energy," Mona says, and even though I expected as much, my heart still sinks. "I've spent weeks running for ninety seconds in both directions. There's an old silo down there," she goes on, pointing down one of the hallways that branch off from where we're standing. "It leads to the way out, but you have to climb fifty feet up, and it's impossible to make it before the doors lock again."

"What's down there?" I ask, pointing down the opposing hallway. Everything around us is completely dark. I can't see a thing.

"It just leads to a big empty room," she explains. "There's nothing in it, but if you run past it there's a steel door at the end, and – "

"And what?" I ask desperately. The hopelessness of the situation is beginning to weigh down on me again. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the ceiling, too, like suddenly all of the dirt that must be packed above us is going to collapse.

"It's sealed, like a vault. There's no way in."

This piques my interest, I have to admit, and I probably would have asked more questions if I wasn't on the verge of a panic attack. My stomach begins to churn with nerves, and I press my hand to my mouth just as a quiet clicking sound interrupts my frantic train of thought.

"What is that?" I gasp, turning to stare at the camera. The red light still doesn't reappear, but I know it's only a matter of time before the constant surveillance returns.

"The generator's coming back on," Mona says sharply, grabbing my hand and pulling me back down the hallway. "We have seventeen seconds, come on."

I stumble on the hard concrete and regain my balance, running after her. She flings open the door to her room – or, Alison's room, I guess – and disappears inside, the door slamming shut behind her.

I cry out in alarm. It's dark and cold and the last thing I want is to be alone right now. But the clicking begins again, and I estimate that it's been about ten seconds since it began. I don't have much time.

And I don't want to find out what happens if I don't obey. So I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and rush into my new small, depressing home.

…

It's been a week and I'm going crazy.

Have you ever been stuck for seven whole days and nights in a tiny cell of a room with only an iron-wrought bed and a crooked little desk to keep you company? Where the most excitement of the day is walking into the teensy adjoined bathroom? Where bland meals are shoved through a little slot in the door two times a day, if you're lucky?

I hope not. Because it sucks.

I think what's really starting to get to me by the end of that first week is the silence. Aside from the maybe five seconds twice a day when a tray of food scrapes against the floor, there are no sounds in the room.

There are sounds _outside_ of the room, though. At random intervals throughout the days, I hear scraping, hammering, pounding, coming from the hallway. It's faint, most likely behind a few closed doors, but that doesn't stop the fears and theories from running through my mind.

But I keep coming back to those four closed doors all around my room and Mona's. "A" is doing something in those rooms, I just know it. And when I think back to my first day here, finding the Aria, Emily, Hanna, and Spencer dolls in that stupid magic trick, I'm pretty sure I know what they're doing.

What _it's_ doing.

It's getting easier to think of "A" as an "it" instead of a real person. I mean, don't get me wrong. "A" has always seemed omnipresent, like there isn't really a face behind that black hoodie. But now it's so much more than that.

I can't even fill the silence by singing or talking to myself. I'm supposed to be Bethany Young when it's watching. But I don't even know who Bethany Young is, aside from a blond girl who possibly knew Alison and was killed in her place. That's not really enough to go by when you're trying to live someone else's life.

It's only during those three minutes every night that I'm free to say and do whatever I want without fear of being watched. And I usually just spend those three minutes sobbing.

Because I'm not going to let "A" see me cry.

I'm still not sleeping well, but at least I'm sleeping at all, even if it is only for a few hours every night. I wake the morning of my eighth day in confinement to the feeling of sunlight on my face. For a moment, I keep my eyes closed, imagining that I'm home in bed, waking up on a Saturday morning. My mom's downstairs making pancakes, I have plans with Justin or Macy later today…

Then my eyes fly open and I regret everything I imagined. It just makes the reality so much worse.

I groan and sit up, holding the sheet to myself and glancing up at the camera, as I do every morning. As usual, the red light is glowing, blinking occasionally. I stare at it impassively, so tired that I can't even muster up much anger anymore.

Then the door flies open.

I gasp, jumping so badly that my back bumps against the iron bars of the bed. But once again, just like on my first day here, there's no one on the other side.

Not moving from the bed, I look up at the camera and raise my eyebrows. "What, the prison sentence is over now? I'm allowed to leave my room?" I meant for this to come out sarcastically, but my voice sounds tiny and scared.

One single chime rings through the room. That means yes, I guess, so I hop off of the bed, my curiosity – and my desperation to leave this stupid room – winning out over my fear of what could be out there.

I peer out into the hallway, turning my head to the left and right. "A" is nowhere in sight, and everything looks just as it did one week ago, except for one thing…all of the other doors are wide open.

Whoa. So I was right. "A" was doing something in those rooms. I can't decide whether I'm terrified or eager to find out what's in them, but my legs make the decision for me, carrying me straight across the hallway and through the door right across from mine.

As soon as I pass through the doorframe, I'm standing in Aria's bedroom.

Holy crap. _Holy crap._ I gaze around the room, my jaw hanging open and my heart thumping hard. Everything is the same, from the wooden paneling on the walls to the books on the shelf. I walk over to the dresser and pick up a picture frame. It's a family picture, though instead of Aria, Mike, and their parents, the family in the photo are four…mannequins?

Ugh. I drop the frame back onto the dresser, a chill working its way up my spine. This is so creepy. There are a few cardboard boxes on the floor beside the bed, all marked with Aria's name in that same disturbing blocky print, and I'm just stooping down to open one when I hear a door close in the hallway.

I straighten up, tensing in alarm. As far as I know, there are only two options for who could be out there, so I decide to be optimistic and go for the less frightening one. I open my mouth, ready to call out my sister's name, when I notice the red light shining menacingly from the little camera in the corner.

Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I call out hesitantly, "Um, A-Alison?" I clear my throat and try again. "Ali?"

Mona appears in the doorway, smiling in such an Alison-like way that I am momentarily taken aback. I wonder if she was trapped in her room just like I was. "Bethany, hey," she says with a little too much emphasis, like she's making sure I haven't forgotten who I'm supposed to be right now. "It looks like 'A' wants us to help do a little unpacking."

"Yeah," I agree, hefting one of the boxes onto the bed. I'm afraid to say more, because I have no idea how Bethany Young used to speak. All I know about her is that, according to her recorded therapy sessions from Radley, she apparently hated Mrs. DiLaurentis. And I can't figure out a way to work that naturally into the conversation.

Turning my back on the camera, I open the flaps to the box. Mona walks over to stand beside me, so close that our shoulders are touching. Quick as a flash, she squeezes my hand, then turns away, picking a necklace out of the box and frowning at it. "Aria used to wear this all the time, to try and get Noel's attention. I always told her it was ugly."

I force out a laugh, because if I don't I'm afraid I might cry instead, and reach into the box. My hand closes around something soft, and I pull it out cautiously. It's a frayed, ratty pig puppet, its pink fur matted and one of its eyes coming loose.

I recognize this thing. Aria used to carry this around for years in her backpack…until she met Alison, that is. I never really knew Aria, not until my sophomore year, but I could always tell that she seriously loved that thing.

I turn it over in my hand and spot tiny wording just inside the opening of the puppet. There, in messy, childlike stitching, are the words, _Property of Aria._

My stomach flips. This isn't some copy. "A" stole the real thing. They stole one of Aria's most treasured possessions, right out of her room. Like it wasn't enough to recreate her bedroom.

And with that, something snaps inside of me.

The puppet falls to the floor and I whirl around, striding toward the camera until I'm right in front of it. Mona says something, sounding alarmed, but I can barely hear her over the sudden, deafening ringing in my ears. I'm so furious that for a moment I don't even think I can formulate words, but then they come pouring out.

"We are _not_ your dolls," I yell, staring directly at the security camera. "And we are not some little puppets on strings that you can control. I am not Bethany Young, Mona is not Alison, and I'm done pretending to be someone I'm not just to appease some sick psycho who treats us like freaking _animals!_ "

"Bethany, stop it!" Mona grabs my arm, trying to pull me back.

I shake her off. I don't care if "A" punishes me for this. There's absolutely nothing, in this moment, that could possibly be worse than this. "Knock it off!" I snap. "I am _not Bethany._ I am Viola, and you are Mona, and as soon as we get out of here – " I whirl around to face the camera again, practically shaking with rage now, "I am going to kill you. I don't care how, and I don't care if it kills me in the process, but I am not going to let you keep treating people like your pathetic little _dolls._ "

I finally force myself to stop talking, my chest heaving as I stare up at the blinking red light on the camera. The silent tension in the room is so thick you could cut right through it with a knife.

After a moment, I brace myself and glance over at the empty door. Any moment now, "A" is going to burst in here and do something horrible to me, there is no doubt in my mind. As far as I know, no one has ever stood up to "A" like that, and I'm sure they're furious.

But the strange part is…I don't care. I feel great, like for the first time I didn't have to conceal my true feelings because really, how much worse can things get? As long as I'm still stuck down in this underground dollhouse, I don't care what else "A" tries to throw in my way.

It seems like hours pass as I continue to watch the doorway, my anger and satisfaction beginning to dissolve into confusion. If "A" was really going to do something to me, they would've done it by now, right?

I turn around slowly to face my sister. I don't trust myself to say anything, in case "A" is still watching, and anyway, my throat is completely raw from all of the yelling, so I just smile.

Mona shakes her head at me, her brow furrowing in confusion and also disapproval, probably. I turn away, walking over to the bed and opening one of the boxes, resuming unpacking.

We spend the rest of the day unpacking the cardboard boxes in each of the girls' rooms, every one filled with trinkets and other personal items. Every time I pull out something I recognize, like a bracelet of Spencer's or one of Emily's swimming trophies, I feel another surge of anger, but I keep my mouth closed all day, not daring myself to say another word. I already can't believe I got away with yelling at "A" like that, and I don't want to push my luck even further.

Hours must have passed before two chimes ring through the room designed to look like Hanna's. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed and sifting through a box filled with what appears to be costume jewelry. "It's time for bed," Mona announces, the first time she's spoken to me since my outburst. "We have to go back to our rooms."

I can't remember the last time I've been so relieved. At the mention of going to bed, all the rest of my outrage turns immediately into unwavering exhaustion. "Fine," I mumble, and walk slowly into the dark hallway, turning into my little mental patient bedroom and falling right onto the bed. I don't bother to close the door, but I hear it click shut behind me anyway.

I'm asleep in minutes, and it's the best sleep I've had since I got to this horrible place. Maybe even the best sleep I've had in two years. And maybe that's why I don't notice what's going on around me.

Something must be, because when I wake up, I'm surrounded by dirt.

...

 **Again, please review, and drop a vote in my poll! Next, Viola tries to survive her punishment, and life in the dollhouse grows even more grim as some new additions arrive...**


	52. Chapter 52

**Thank you to Fun With Typing, RHatch89, Mr Tea The Dino, and Pinkpoodle8 for reviewing, and to CindyNMelissasAccount and MelissaPond for favoriting/following! I appreciate the support. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, and don't forget to leave a response on the poll on my profile!**

Chapter 52

 _What?_

I scramble to my feet, my cheek stinging from where it had been resting against the ground. I reach up to touch my face, and my fingers come away caked with dirt.

But it's not just the ground that is made of dirt. I'm completely surrounded by it, on all sides, in the tiniest space I've ever been in. It's mostly dark, with only a bit of light coming from above. Almost like I'm in…

I tilt my head back, gazing upward.

A hole.

I'm in a hole.

The curved walls of dirt soar upward, seemingly endless. I'm so far down that I can't see anything but the dank brown ceiling what seems like a hundred feet above me. I run my hands along the dirt surrounding me, hoping desperately for a foothold or uneven patch, but it's no use. It's smooth, packed in too tightly for me to dig or climb.

I'm trapped down here.

Panic swells inside of me, so suddenly that I'm nearly knocked right down. "Oh my god," I gasp, turning in a complete circle, staring up at the edges to the hole, far, far above me. "Oh my god."

This must be my punishment, I realize, for yelling at "A" earlier…I barely remember what I said. My mind is completely foggy. Had that been earlier today, yesterday? It could have been weeks ago, for all I know.

I run my hand through my still-blond hair, brushing it out of my face. I can't believe this. I can't believe that "A" actually has a gigantic _hole_ in this horrible place, and that they actually left me here to rot. Who knows when they're going to decide to let me out…that is, _if_ they decide to let me out.

"Hello?" I call out, and my voice echoes against the looming dirt walls around me. For some reason, this sends another wave of panic through me. " _Hello?_ " I yell again, feeling my heart speed up. I clear my throat, grimacing. "Um, Alison?"

When there is no response, I give up completely, suddenly not caring if "A" is watching or listening. What could possibly be worse than this? Throwing caution to the wind, I take in a deep breath and scream my sister's name – her _real_ name – at the top of my lungs, over and over, until my voice can't take it anymore, and I realize that no one is coming to help me.

Shaking with the exhaustion of yelling, I lean my back against the dirt side of the hole and sink to the ground, resting my chin on my knees. Before this, I didn't think anything could get worse than being stuck in an underground bunker, under constant surveillance and being forced to pretend to be someone else.

I really need to stop underestimating "A."

…

It's a week before I'm finally able to admit it to myself…I'm not getting out of here.

Clearly, "A" has realized that kidnapping me was a mistake. I'm not submitting to their crazy tasks, or pretending to be brainwashed like Mona. And apparently turning on the camera that day in Aria's look-alike bedroom just cemented it.

"A" is going to leave me here to die. And I'm sure that they're going to make it as painful as possible. So far, I've seen the person…no. The _creature_ in the black hoodie twice, when they've leaned over the edge of the hole, what seems like miles above me, and poured water directly onto me. At first I had no idea what was happening, until I realized it was their way of giving me something to drink.

But the last time that happened was nearly three days ago, if I've been keeping track correctly, and I don't think I am. I can barely keep my eyes open now – they keep crossing out of hunger. My throat is raw from a mixture of all of the screaming I did during the first day or so, along with barely anything to drink. And I'm too exhausted to do more than stand for a few minutes, even though it seems like all I do is sleep.

The silence is killing me. Aside from the sounds of the generator turning on and off every night, it's eerily quiet. I've wondered more than a few times over the past week, during the limited time that I'm actually having rational thoughts, where, exactly, I am. I assume I'm still in the dollhouse somewhere, judging by the color of the ceiling and the fact that there's probably not a whole lot of other places where "A" could keep a gigantic hole in the ground.

But there isn't any way to know for sure.

So I continue to wait and sleep.

…

After another bout of fitful sleep, if you can even call it that, my mind wakens before my eyes open. The first thing I notice is that I feel okay. Not great, or at all healthy, but better than I've felt in weeks.

The next thing I notice is that something feels different.

I shift around, rolling onto my back. I've gotten used to the feeling of lying on the cold, hard dirt, curling into a ball to try and keep warm, but I'm stretched out. Something light-weight is covering me. Something almost…soft.

My eyes fly open and I sit up before I give myself a chance to think.

The little gray Radley-like room faces me. I'm back.

"What?" I murmur in shock, swinging my legs off of the edge of the bed and standing unsteadily. Somehow, I've gained some of my strength back. And the old, dirty hospital gown I've been wearing since I arrived here, what must be almost a month ago by now, has been replaced by a brand new one.

I shudder and force the thought of "A" undressing me out of my head, my eyes sweeping across the room. Same metal door, shut tight, same little wooden chair and table, same iron bed. It's almost like I never left.

Except for one thing. Scrawled on the mirror above the dresser, in the bright red coloring of what I really hope is either lipstick or dripping paint, are the words, _Maybe you'll think twice next time. –A_

So throwing me in that literal hellhole really was my punishment for disobeying. I stride over to the dresser and grab a tissue from the box on top of it, furiously wiping away the words and leaving a smear of red behind. Then I glance over my shoulder, finally taking notice of the security camera, its little red light staring menacingly down at me.

"I've learned my lesson," I say clearly, because I know that's what I'm supposed to say. And from that point on, I swear to myself that I'll do what I'm told from now on, even if it kills me. As horrible as this is, it's better than being stuck down in that hole. And I will never go back there again.

As if in response to this, the door to the room swings open, just as the smooth automated female voice bursts through the invisible speakers. "Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway."

Not this again. "Time for tea again?" I ask, looking directly at the camera and trying to keep the venom out of my voice. Forcing a smile, I walk out of the room and down the long, dark hallway, keeping my head held high as I stride into the copy of the DiLaurentis' living room.

Mona is sitting at the piano across the room, shifting through a few pages of sheet music. A mask of Alison's face – that stupid thing gives me a chill every time I see it – lays on the top of the piano, face up.

I take a deep breath and resist the urge to run across the room and hug my sister, who I have not seen or known anything about for what seems like weeks. Instead, I plaster a smile on my face and walk casually over. "Ali. Hey."

She looks up at me, and the relief is evident on her face for only a moment. "Bethany."

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning against the piano and hoping that I'll finally get some answers. Something is going on…there's a reason I was released from that awful hole today and sent directly here. I can feel it.

"Just trying to brush up on my piano playing," Mona says, plucking at the keys a bit. "I used to play a lot when I was younger, but…"

Another Alison response. Great. I clear my throat and hesitate, trying to think of how Bethany Young would keep this conversation going. I don't have a lot to go off of. "I'm just glad to be out of my room. It's like a cell in there," I settle on, trying to keep my voice light so "A" doesn't think I'm baiting them. "So," I add after a pause, drumming my nails against the piano lid, "what's the occasion?"

She stands up and smiles, looking down at the Alison mask on the piano. "My friends are coming today."

My heart stops cold, like someone has just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Oh my god. It's today. They're coming today.

Has "A" already kidnapped them, I wonder, as I stare at my sister, completely dumbfounded into silence. Are they on their way here now, panicking and trying to get free? Or unconscious, the way I was?

Or are they here already?

I have no idea when I last ate, but I feel something churning in my stomach, threatening to come up. I press my hand to my it and stammer out, "Your – your friends?"

"You'll like them," Mona says without meeting my eyes, which is probably smart. "But…they don't know that we were talking before that night, so let's just keep that between us, okay?"

"Huh?" I blurt out, because I have no idea what she's talking about, and if that statement was said as Alison or as herself. I file that question away as a topic for tonight's three minutes, and say, "So, um, what am I supposed to be – "

"There's mail for you," she cuts me off, nodding toward the door. "In the game room?"

Startled, I nod and am halfway toward the door before I hear the piano music start up again. I pause but force myself not to turn around. Of course she's not coming with me. I shouldn't have even expected her to, but I still feel a shiver as I walk down the dark hallway into the child's playroom.

It's just as creepy as I remembered, with the puppets and board games and wooden blocks. Amongst all of the spooky nineties-style toys, it takes me a moment to notice the little metal mailbox secured against the wall, its red flag raised.

I walk cautiously over to it, glancing up at the camera and resisting the insane urge to wave at it. I reach inside and pull out a white envelope, with Bethany's name scrawled across it in the red blocky print that I've begun to despise.

Taking in a breath of anticipation, I open the envelope and pull out a letter.

 _Wait here. They'll be coming._

I swallow hard and fumble with the letter, not bothering to pick it up once it falls to the ground. They really are coming. There are about to be six girls locked up in this dungeon instead of two. And there's nothing I can do about it.

I walk over to the table and sit down, eyeing the board game that has been laid out on top of it. "Mystery Date," I mutter, reading off of the box. There are several knobs attached to parts of the board, most likely containing pictures underneath. I resist the urge to open one, even though the curiosity is itching at me. As long as that camera is watching, I can't do anything that I want to.

Instead, I lean my elbows on the table and keep my eyes focused down, trying to act as generic as possible so as to convince "A" – who may or may not be watching – that I'm still very much Bethany. I think back to that awful hole and shudder. I'll do whatever "A" wants if it means never going back there again.

I sit in insufferable silence for what seems like forever. I strain my ears for any sound of piano playing or voices, but the door to the game room is closed, and I can't hear a thing. Of course all of the walls in this place are soundproof. I shouldn't have expected anything less.

I lean back in my chair and fold my arms, picking at a strand of blond hair. I wonder vaguely how much time has passed. I look down at my wrist and gasp as I realize that I was wearing a watch, the watch I always used to wear, the day that "A" kidnapped me. I didn't realize it until now, but they took it from me.

Suddenly angry – my grandfather gave me that watch two years ago and I hadn't taken it off since that day – I dig my nails into my arms, forcing myself not to lash out at the camera or even make an unpleasant face. The hole. I have to keep reminding myself of that horrible place, way worse than this.

Then the door swings open.

I jump to my feet as Mona walks in, but before I can even open my mouth to say anything, four terrified, confused faces crowd the doorway.

Hanna. Aria. Spencer. Emily.

They're all here.

And they're all wearing bright orange prison jumpsuits.

I can't stop staring. Yes, I knew that they would be coming. "A" basically told me as much, and so did my sister, what was probably less than an hour ago. But seeing them here, doomed to the same fate as we are, isn't any less shocking.

It's Spencer who notices me first, and her eyes widen. "Oh my god."

The other girls, who had all been gazing around the room in shock and disgust, all turn to stare at me, their faces paling.

I take in a deep breath. The last time I saw any of them, I totally lost my mind and screamed in the middle of the quad. That night, I was kidnapped at the school.

There are about a million things I want to say right now, but I can't say any of them. Instead, I glance at each of them, very aware of the camera watching my every move, and smile blandly before I say the only thing that seems safe.

"Hi, guys. I'm glad I finally get to meet you. I'm Bethany."

...

 **Next, the prom planning begins, and the girls puzzle over the true identity of their kidnapper.**


	53. Chapter 53

**Thank you to RHatch89, zattomiik, Fun With Typing, and nick2951 for reviewing, and to ainobanaani for the favorite/follow. Thanks also to the people who voted on the poll. Although now I'm at a tie vote, so keep the votes coming! And please let me know what you think, as always - I love hearing your thoughts!**

Chapter 53

It's taken over a month, but my body has finally started adjusting to being here. I wake up at the same time every night, even when I was in that horrible dark hole, with no concept of time or artificial sunlight.

So when I jolt awake that night, I throw off the sheet and leap up, knowing exactly what time it must be. But the time doesn't matter. All that matters is the next three minutes.

I'm counting on the fact that Mona has woken the others – although, remembering my first night here, none of them were probably sleeping anyway – and gotten them up, so I run alone down the hallway to the area where it splits off, and find that I'm right. All five of them are standing there, talking.

The girls are still wearing the jumpsuits, but I don't even want to ask. I join the group and grab my sister's hand, still unable to believe that we both made it out of these last few weeks.

"How much have you told them?" I ask.

"Exactly what I told you," Mona replies, glancing in the direction of the vault. I look, too, my curiosity spiking. As much as I've gotten used to this place, that sealed door still never fails to interest me.

"What's in there?" Spencer asks, her voice wavering. She and the others are all standing close together, their arms crossed or their shoulders hunched. They're all pale and almost green-looking, and I'm reminded again of how I felt when I first woke up here.

"I'm dying to know too, Spencer," Mona says while I press my hand to my stomach, suddenly nauseous. "But I've never made it inside. It's too far to make it back to your room."

"What happens if you don't make it back in time?" Spencer says cautiously.

I shake my head, because thankfully, I've never had to find out, but my sister explains immediately. "It leaves you for days without food or water. It blasts the siren until you'd rather die than listen to it one more second." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "On a loop…it plays a recording of the people that you've left behind, crying at your funeral."

I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach. Since I've been here, I've spent most of my time either locked in my room or stuck in the hole. I've been starved, too, and listened to that awful siren several times. But that last part…I can't imagine anything so horrible. I let out a choked out sob and squeeze her hand tightly.

"Is our mom okay?" she asks, her voice small, and I nod, speaking through the lump in my throat, "What does she think happened to me?"

But all four of them are staring at us with wide eyes of surprise. "You know you're Mona," Hanna says to my sister, and Aria adds, her eyes on me, "And you know you're not Bethany."

"That's who it wanted us to become," Mona explains. "So that's who we are when it's watching."

"You don't want to know what happens when we try to be ourselves," I add, shivering. "It beats you right back to submission."

"It thinks it beat me," my sister cuts in, her voice low. "But I'm still here. I'm the one who's winning the game."

That may be the saddest thing I have ever heard. I press my hand to my mouth to hide the fact that I'm on the verge of tears. But then again, I wonder how I would be acting, what my thought process would be, if I had been here as long as she has. I can't even imagine it.

"Where does my mom think I am?" I blurt out, my mother's face filling my mind as it occurs to me that, over the past few months, she hasn't only lost one daughter. She's lost both. "Does she think I'm dead?"

"No one knows," Spencer answers, meeting my eyes sadly. " 'A' never tried to stage your death or give any hints. All anyone knows is that you disappeared after you told your mom you were going to the Brew. There's been an investigation, but they haven't been able to link your disappearance to Alison."

"But they convicted Ali for your murder," Hanna adds to Mona, who smiles a bit at this, I notice. "Your mom never showed up to the courthouse. We heard it was too much for her, with both of you gone."

I can barely breathe. "A" didn't even bother to make it seem like I was killed. For over a month, my mother has had to live with the mystery of what happened to me. I almost think it would have been better for her to believe I was dead. Then at least she'd get some closure.

I glance over at the four girls beside us, still wearing those bright orange prison jumpsuits. "And they arrested you guys because they think you were helping Alison?"

"They arrested us as accessories," Spencer confirms.

Mona smirks. "I didn't think you were wearing that to make a fashion statement."

Hanna lets out a laugh, suddenly moving to hug her. "God, I'm so glad you're okay." She pulls away and puts a hand on my arm, too. "Both of you."

I finally feel a little of the icy feeling in my chest begin to melt. As much as it still sucks that we're all stuck here, something hopeful begins to creep in. There are six of us now. Six girls against one tormentor.

"A" might be just as omnipresent as ever, but I can't help but like those odds.

…

We're walking down the hallway the next morning, on our way to the big empty room just in front of the sealed vault, when Spencer suddenly blurts out something very interesting. "You guys, the blocks in the playroom spelled out a name. Charles."

"What?" I hiss, barely comprehending what she's talking about, until I recall those several wooden alphabet blocks on the shelf in that little child-like game room.

Charles.

"A" is a guy? For some reason, this shocks me, and judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, no one else knows what to do with this information, either. As we walk into the big empty room that somewhat resembles a warehouse, I wrack my brain for any memory of someone named Charles. I come up empty.

The big room is usually completely empty, but today there are several large plastic tables set up. Yesterday, we all received invitations to "prom." So I guess we have to set it up, too.

"Please find your stations," the automated female voice speaks over the intercom, confirming my thoughts, and we span out across the room.

There are placards set out on every table. Aria reaches hers first. "Aria Montgomery, music committee."

"Emily Fields and Spencer Hastings, decorating committee."

"Hanna Marin, food and drink." Hanna glances up at the camera that's watching us from the corner of the room, scowling. "Bite me."

I laugh, despite myself, and grab the only placard remaining. "Alison DiLaurentis and Bethany Young, prom queen election committee." I drop it back onto the table, glancing at the stack of cards and several large boxes that line the table.

Aria picks up a clipboard from her station and flips through it, her brow wrinkling in confusion. "All of these songs are from, like, seven years ago."

Spencer grabs a mask from her table and examines it. "A Night at the Opera. That was the prom theme the last year that Melissa took Ian."

Hanna shakes her head, frowning. "So 'A's' recreating a prom we already had?"

"Well," Mona says, grabbing a card and a pen from the table, "if I'm on the election committee, you can be sure I'll win that crown." She glances at me and smirks. "Sorry, Bethany."

I pause, and, remembering that Bethany supposedly hated Alison, roll my eyes, crossing my arms. "Wow. I never thought it was possible for someone to be so self-absorbed." I sigh, feeling like I'm in a bad high school drama production.

She narrows her eyes at me and turns away, saying to Spencer, "Sort of like old times, huh, Spencer? Remember when I rigged the election for you to win class president?" She glances back at me, and I raise my eyebrows at the look in her eyes. She has a plan. "Want to fill some of these out? I'll help you if you help me."

Spencer seems to come to the same conclusion that I do. Setting down the mask that she was holding, she walks over. "Sure."

"If 'A' doesn't mind," Mona says slowly, glancing over at Aria, Emily, and Hanna, "maybe we can all help each other, starting with these ballots."

We all crowd around the table, shoulder-to-shoulder, our backs facing the camera. My sister uncaps a marker and begins writing on one of the ballots.

 _Did you guys get a gas mask from A?_

My stomach lurches. I look at the girls around me, shaking my head along with them.

It's Hanna who finally states what we're – or at least _I'm_ – thinking. She grabs another pen and a new ballot and writes, _I'm scared._

Me too.

...

 **Next, the girls put an escape plan into action the night of the prom.**


	54. Chapter 54

**Thanks to RHatch89, potterjay92, and Mr Tea the Dino for the reviews, and to candyfan841 and CthulutheYoungerGod for the favorites/follows. I hope you enjoy the next chapter - please let me know what you think, and don't forget to vote on my poll for what you would like to see from me once this story is completed!**

Chapter 54

" 'A' thought of everything."

I stare into my room, shocked. "A" really did think of everything. A silver and blue prom dress is laid out on the wrought-iron bed, along with shoes, jewelry, and even makeup. Apparently "A" doesn't mess around when it comes to prom night.

I take a deep breath, glance over at the others, and we all step into our rooms in unison, the doors closing behind us. I walk over to the bed and pick up the dress, examining it. It looks brand new, and it's actually beautiful, something that I could see myself wearing to an _actual_ prom.

I shake my head and begin undressing. We have an hour to get ready, but doing my makeup is the last thing on my mind. My stomach is in knots and my head is pounding as I think over the plan.

We're going to get out of here tonight.

Over the past few days, we've been assembling the warehouse with everything we need in order to create a machine that will temporarily shut off the power (lucky we have two geniuses stuck down here, because I still have no idea how it works). We're going to lure Charles up to us, shut down the electricity, and get out of here.

Every possible way that this could go wrong is running through my head as I brush mascara onto my eyelashes – and it's good quality stuff, too, gee, thanks, "A." What if Charles doesn't show up to the prom? What if the power doesn't shut off? What if there's no real way out?

The automated woman's voice cuts through my thoughts just as I'm securing a necklace around my neck. "Please exit your room and follow the lighted pathway."

I close my eyes and breathe for a moment, pushing down the urge to throw up. There's six of us and one of it. If worse comes to worst, we can always overpower Charles and try to find another way out of here.

I walk slowly down the hallway and into the warehouse, which has been transformed completely. I stop at the doorway and feel my breath catch in my throat. There are mannequins everywhere. Male and female ones, all wearing fancy dresses and tuxedos…and masks.

The room begins to spin, and not just from the lights swirling everywhere. I press my hand to my chest and spot the other girls standing nearby, looks of worry and disgust on their faces. I rush over to join them. "This is so freaky," I mutter over the music, which I recognize from six or seven years ago.

"I guess we're supposed to dance," Spencer replies, looking out at all of the mannequins that seem to be staring at us.

We all stare at each other, no one wanting to make the first move. Are we supposed to dance with those creepy statues, or with each other? I wrap my arms around myself and shudder. This is super weird.

But thankfully, the music cuts out before anyone is forced into anything uncomfortable. "Ladies and gentleman, please welcome your prom queen, Alison DiLaurentis." Canned applause booms around the room, like the sort of thing you'd hear in a sitcom.

The swirling lights focus on the top of the staircase, and my sister begins walking down, slowly, because she probably can't see very well through the Alison mask she's wearing.

I feel myself tense up. It's time. I glance over at Spencer, who nods and smiles. "Charles?" she calls out, bounding up the stairs and taking Mona's hand, helping her down the steps. "We have something for you. You should be standing up here, Charles. It's what you want, isn't it?"

"This is your prom, Charles," Hanna adds. "You should be crowned the king."

We all gaze out over the crowd of mannequins, just in time to see one move. I jump about a foot as a figure in a black suit, wearing a creepy red, black, and white mask over the usual balaclava, walks slowly, almost cautiously toward us.

My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely hear Spencer whisper to Aria, "Wait for it."

Charles moves closer until he's standing right in front of us. I squint, unable to make out anything behind the mask. Aria holds the fake camera up to her eye, aiming.

"Now!" Spencer shouts, and everything happens at once. Aria presses the button on the camera and the lights pop, darkness flooding over us with a bang as the electricity shuts down. Charles ducks in surprise, his hands flying over his head.

I run before I let myself think, not even stopping to pull off the heels. We bolt out of the room and down the hallway. I keep one hand skimming against the wall, praying that I don't trip on either my shoes or the hem of the long dress.

It's nearly pitch black down here. I can barely see a thing, so I focus on Hanna's red dress ahead of me. Everyone's screaming and yelling, even me. I feel my mouth moving, but I can hardly hear over the pounding of my heart. We're nearing the ladder that leads to the exit. We're going to make it.

We're going to get out of here.

I stumble on my heels and Emily grabs my arm, hauling me upright with a cry of, "Hurry up!" Aria reaches the ladder first and starts to climb. I follow, clutching the bars tight and struggling to keep from falling.

Finally we reach the silo and push open the doors, just as sounds of the generator kicking back on reach my ears. But it's too late. We're out.

I let out a sigh of relief as I push my way into the darkness and the fresh air. "Oh my God," Aria cries out, and I don't understand the fear in her voice until I let myself look up.

We're not free yet. A huge fence sits only yards away, reaching high up toward the sky. "We're still trapped," I scream, clapping my hands over my mouth.

"We can climb it," Emily yells desperately, and we run. I'm only feet away from the fence, already reaching for it, when a scream of, "Stop!" pierces through the air.

It's Spencer, reaching out to us in horror. I follow her gaze, my eyes falling on the signs that are scattered around the fence.

It's electrically charged.

We're still stuck here.

I turn in a circle, feeling the weight of the situation like something heavy has just landed on my chest. The tall fence completely surrounds us and the door we came out through. There's nowhere to go.

Then the music comes on, through speakers that sit on a tall wooden post, just above one of those little black cameras that have started to fill me with rage every time I lay eyes on one.

 _Oh, give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above._

 _Don't fence me in._

Anger bubbles just under the fear. "A" is mocking us, probably sitting back and laughing right now at our weak plan to escape. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew all along that we were planning this.

I glance around at the five others around me, their terrified expressions mirroring my own. We stand in a circle, our backs to each other. I gaze out at the fence and the thick trees that surround the other side of it. Even if we were able to escape, where would be go? Are we even in Rosewood?

Mona wraps her hand around my wrist, looking petrified. I grab her arm in return, even though my hands are shaking.

We're trapped.

...

 **Again, please review! Next, the girls are forced back into the dollhouse to undergo more horror.**


	55. Chapter 55

**Hey guys, I'm sorry that I'm so late getting this up, but my life has been consumed by midterms all week. But now it's Friday, so here we go! Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, potterjay92, and Fun With Typing for the reviews, and to wag11137, AmandaTropic, and whataliar for the favorites and follows. Please keep letting me know what you think - reading your reviews brightens my day!**

Chapter 55

It's been three days.

But it feels more like three months.

The minutes pass like hours, and the hours like days, and the longer we're out here, the slower time seems to go. The night, into the next day, isn't so bad. I ate a bit before going to the prom, and it tides me over for about twelve hours.

But then the hunger starts to become consuming. I should be used to this feeling, after being trapped in that hole for weeks. But I don't think I'll ever get used to the feeling of raw, gnawing hunger that doesn't even feel like it's confined to my stomach anymore. It's everywhere, and it's all I can think about.

Of course it rains at night. By this point, I wouldn't be surprised if "A" can somehow control the weather, too. Why not? They control everything else. Spencer's dress has a cape attached, so we all huddle under it during the downpour. It doesn't really help, though. My dress is completely soaked and heavy. It makes it hard to move.

The sun beats down on us during the day, and during the afternoons we lay spread on our backs or sides on the rough ground, everyone clutching their stomachs or dozing, without actually sleeping. When you're this hungry, real sleep doesn't really happen.

There's some talking, too, and I'm pretty sure I participate, though I can't really tell. My mind is foggy, basically empty of all thought, and there's a constant roaring in my ears that blocks out most other sound.

After three days have passed, or something like that, I'm not even trying to keep track of time anymore, I sit upright, my knees pulled up to my chest to try and constrain some of the hunger pangs. It's not working.

The others are all talking about Charles. I recognize Spencer admitting that there was something familiar about him, but my eyes cross and I miss most of what is said after that.

"How long can a person live without food?" I hear someone ask, and my mind clears for a moment at the mention of food.

"Three weeks," Mona and Spencer mumble in unison, and Spencer goes on, "But water's a different story. Some people can only go days without it."

"You know you're dying when you're not hungry or thirsty anymore," Mona says quietly. "It means your organs are shutting down."

"That's what happened to me when I was in that hole," I say, my voice scratchy and rough. "I only got a few drops of water, tops."

"My organs are definitely working," Aria groans, rubbing her stomach. "I'm so thirsty, I'm seriously considering drinking my own pee."

Everyone laughs, weakly, but I can tell that she's serious. And I don't blame her. I can't say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind a few times.

"I can totally suck on a pee ice cube right now," Hanna agrees, and I laugh again, even though the movement hurts my ribs. It feels kind of good to laugh.

Emily clears her throat, resting her cheek on her knee. "I'd lick sweat off a jock strap."

Okay. _That_ thought has never crossed my mind. "Okay, Emily, you win."

I glance over at Aria. Her eyes have grown wider than usual and she's shivering, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "I don't know how much longer I can handle this," she mutters, her voice almost manic.

"You can handle it, Aria," Mona mutters. "We all can."

I sigh, feeling my eyelids droop. But I refuse to close my eyes, because I'm afraid that if I do, they won't open again. "We're gonna get through this, guys," I mutter, mostly for my own benefit. "Together."

I drift off then, and snap back to attention again at the sound of the creak of the metal doors swinging open. We all jump just as that smooth voice that I've learned to hate fills the air. "Bonjour. Good morning. Buenos dias. Please enter and follow the lighted pathway."

I scramble to my feet and wait for the dizziness to subside before I step forward, glancing down into the bunker. All I see is total darkness. Aria walks over to me, peering down as well. "I mean, I'm afraid to stay up here but I'm also scared to death to go back there."

"Please enter and follow the lighted pathway," the voice speaks again, and even though I know it sounds exactly the same, I almost feel like I detect a note of warning.

"What do we do?" I ask in terror, turning to my sister. "You've been here the longest, what do you think?"

"Maybe this was our punishment," Mona offers, but she doesn't sound very convinced. "Maybe it's not mad at us anymore."

Aria grabs her hand, and reaches out for mine as well. "Let's stick together."

All of us clutching at each other, we move slowly back into the darkness. I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a breath and heading down the steps, unable to believe that I'm voluntarily walking back into this torture lair.

The silence is a little unnerving as we creep down the dark hallway. There are no sounds of movement, and we all hold onto each other tightly, no one wanting to be the first to let go. I have no idea what's going to happen, but the last thing I want is to be alone. No matter what "A" threatens to do to us, we have to stick together.

A rattling sound breaks through the silence, and I yelp, instinctively pulling my hand out of Aria's and leaping back. The sound comes again, from behind us, and we all whirl around.

The faceless black hoodie stares back at us, and I shriek, grabbing hold of Spencer's arm so hard that my nails dig into her skin. Not that she notices.

"A" walks toward us and, so quickly that no one has time to react, throws a smoke bomb directly at the floor. Then he reaches out and grabs Mona by the arms, pulling her toward him and shoving a gas mask over her face just as thick smoke begins to fill the hallway.

I scream my sister's name, trying to grab her hand, but the gray smoke is too thick. I can't see who I'm touching or where I am, and I cough, hearing the others do the same. The smoke is filling my lungs now, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak, but I try to yell out anyway, terrified.

I'm aware of my vision spinning, and I stumble back, blindly smacking into a wall as I slump to the floor, unconscious.

…

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

I groan and squeeze my eyes shut even tighter, trying to block out the awful pounding in my head. It reminds me of the first time I woke up down here, after "A" whacked me on the back of the head and kidnapped me. I wonder if I hit my head on something as I blacked out.

Before I allow myself to open my eyes, I shift around, feeling out my surroundings. I'm lying on something smooth and cold, but something thin and soft is covering me. And I'm naked. I don't even have to look to know.

Alarm at this realization is what prompts me to finally open my eyes. I slowly force myself to rise up on my elbows, despite the awful headache, and I repress a scream as I look around.

The metal table that I'm lying on is right up against a wall, but to my right are four others. And Spencer, Emily, Hanna, and Aria are lying on them, facing up and covered by the same kind of sheet that I am.

We're in a morgue.

"Oh my god," I gasp, just as Aria sits upright, her eyes wide with panic. She immediately leans over to Hanna, lying next to her, and shakes her. "Aria," I hiss, sweat beading along my hairline.

"Viola," she replies in shock, her eyes meeting mine just as the other girls begin to stir, sitting up with gasps and looks of terror.

"Is this a hospital?" Hanna asks, her eyes sweeping around the cold metal room.

I wish more than anything that it was – that we were actually out of this horrible dungeon – but I shake my head. "I think it's a morgue."

Spencer groans, pressing a hand to the space between her eyes. "It feels like somebody's ripping out my brain through my eye sockets."

I rub my own forehead, having to agree. At least I'm not the only one with a pounding headache, but it makes me wonder even more what "A" did to us.

"Thank God," Emily says suddenly, and I lean forward to look down at her. She has lifted the sheet covering her chest and peered down at herself. "I thought for a second 'A' harvested our organs."

I wince, fidgeting uncomfortably. When I woke up naked, that wasn't the first thought that ran through my head. But if "A" had done anything sexual, I would feel it, wouldn't I? Aside from my head feeling like it's going to split open, I feel basically normal.

I glance over at the others, only to find Spencer staring at me. "What?" I ask, running a hand over my face in concern.

"Guys," Spencer exclaims, her eyes widening with a realization, "what if 'A' wanted to make us look dead to send a message to our families?"

"What do you mean?"

She grimaces. "So they'd stop looking for us. The only thing is…one of these things is not like the others." She gives me a pointed look. "Why would 'A' want to lump Bethany Young in with the rest of us?"

I shrug, forcing a laugh so I don't start to panic instead. "I think my mom might be more freaked over me having blond hair than me being dead." I glance over my shoulder, wincing at the sight of the camera. Hopefully "A" didn't hear me say that. The last thing I need right now is to end up back in that hole.

The door opens and my back goes rigid. I clutch the sheet to my chest tightly, my hands clenched into fists. I'm so sure that we are about to be confronted by "A" again that I actually let out a sigh of relief when Mona walks in, pushing a tray and wearing a red and white candy striper uniform, just like one from the real hospital.

"Juice? Aspirin?" she asks, gesturing to the little cups on the tray.

"Mona, what the hell is going on?" Hanna demands. "What happened to us?"

"I've asked you not to call me that ever again, Hanna," my sister snaps. "That bitch is dead to me."

I shudder a little at that, but Aria shakes her head. "Okay, Ali," she says quickly. "Ali. Do you know what 'A' did to us? We're scared."

"I'm scared, too."

"How long have we been here?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"Only a few hours," she says, glancing up at the camera. "I've been in my room until now. That's all I know."

Emily narrows her eyes, looking unconvinced. "Are you _sure_ that's all you know?"

"Okay," I groan, squeezing the bridge of my nose as the pain between my eyes grows to an almost unbearable level. "I could use that aspirin now."

"Sure." Mona grabs a little paper cup off of the tray and hands it to me. It's marked with a large red "B" and is filled with clear liquid. I'm suddenly uncertain – this doesn't look like any aspirin I've ever seen before – but I can't deal with the pain for even another second. So I take the plunge and gulp it all down, relieved that at least it's tasteless.

The intercom crackles to life. "Please return to your rooms and find your surprises."

I sigh and begin to swing my legs over the side of the table, when I'm shocked motionless by my sister looking right at the camera and saying, "No."

I freeze, exchanging a glance with Spencer. This does not seem like a good idea. "Please return to your rooms and find your surprises."

Mona does not look away, her eyes narrowing. "I said no."

"Um," I mutter, alarmed, just as three chimes fill the room and she starts, all signs of determination leaving her expression. "Three chimes means we have to go back to our rooms. Or else." She runs from the room without another word.

Crap. I jump down from the table, and the room spins. "Whoa," I mutter, rushing after the other girls and down the hallway. The headache is mostly gone, but I don't feel any better. Everything looks a little weird, a little discolored, and the walls seem to spin around me.

"Ali," the others are yelling, so I try to call out, too, but my throat is suddenly bone-dry. _It wasn't aspirin,_ I realize, only vaguely aware of the conversation going on around me until I notice that the others have all retreated into their rooms.

"Guys," I call out, stumbling over to the only open door – the one to my room – and leaning against the doorframe. "I think I'm gonna – "

But then the world goes black.

...

 **Thanks for reading, and again, please let me know what you think! I love reading feedback from my usual reviewers, and I would love to hear what some new followers think. Next, Viola wakes to find herself in a situation more terrifying than ever.**


	56. Chapter 56

**Thank you to Pinkpoodle8, Guest, Fun With Typing, RHatch89, and potterjay92 for the reviews, and to RobynSOS for the favorite. This is a pretty intense chapter, so please, please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 56

 _"_ _Bitch."_

 _"_ _Murderer."_

 _"_ _Freak."_

I scream and bolt upright, my hand flying to my pounding chest. I've never had such a vivid nightmare, not even on any of the other nights I've been here, and I figure it's probably due to whatever drink "A" gave me.

 _"_ _Psycho."_

 _"_ _Killer."_

I gasp as the words reverberate around me, the voice growling and loud, almost like the words are being yelled by multiple people instead of one.

I clap my hands to my ears as the words grow louder, swirling around me. This wasn't a nightmare. This is real life.

I'm so shocked by the sound that it takes me a moment to notice where I am. I'm lying on a cold concrete floor, not in the little bed in the Radley-like room, and when I gaze straight ahead, instead of being surrounded by gray walls, I see only a midnight black sky and stars.

 _I'm outside?_ I jump up and rush to the edge of the concrete floor. A short little brick wall borders the square-shaped surface, just like…a roof. I'm on a roof.

For one brief moment, an intense feeling of joy fills me. I'm no longer trapped in an underground dungeon, with only one exit. There must be a way out of here.

I lean against the edge of the roof and peer down. Sure enough, way, way down below is bright green grass. I haven't seen grass in almost two months. I grin down at it, but through my happiness comes another feeling…doubt.

This is too easy. If I wanted, I could leap right over the edge of this roof and plunge right to my death. And judging by the insults that keep booming from everywhere and nowhere, that seems like it just might be the plan.

I shake my head hard, trying to wipe that thought from my head. Absolutely not. I'm not giving "A" the satisfaction of watching me get desperate enough to kill myself. I'd rather starve up here. I lift my hand up toward the sky, reaching out over the edge of the roof.

My hand connects with something hard, and I yelp, jumping back.

 _What?_

Shaking my throbbing hand for a moment, I reach out again. Just as my hand reaches the edge of the roof, it runs into something sturdy and unwavering. Like an invisible wall has been placed right up against it.

I feel like I've just entered another planet. I walk slowly along the perimeter of the roof, running my hand along the hard, invisible surface. Sure enough, it's everywhere. I couldn't get off of here if I wanted to.

I feel a breeze on my arms and gasp, looking down at myself. The thin white hospital gown that I've worn since I arrived here has been replaced by tight blue jeans and a yellow ruffled shirt that I know all too well.

Again: _What?_

"Hello?" I yell up to the sky above me, which suddenly looks just as artificial as the sunlight that beams into my underground room every morning. " _Hello?_ "

In response, the booming voices grow louder, nearly screaming the words now.

 _"_ _Murderer!"_

 _"_ _Bitch!"_

 _"_ _Liar!"_

I cry out and press my hands tightly over my ears. The force of the words makes my knees buckle, and I fall to the concrete ground, squeezing my eyes shut.

A red glow pierces through the darkness of my closed eyelids, and I look up, instantly wishing I hadn't. Words have appeared on the invisible walls, looking like they have been projected right onto the sky. Bright red, dripping words, exactly the color of blood, giant and everywhere, the same insults that are being screamed into my ears.

I feel tears leak out of my eyes but I can barely concentrate on them. My eyes are squeezed shut and my fingers are pressing my ears closed, but I can't escape the screaming words or the bright red writing.

I feel like my senses are going into overload. I curl into as tight a ball as I can, sobbing openly now, not caring if "A" is watching or not.

I've been stuck in a tiny room for days. I've been trapped down in a hole and starved, and abandoned outside in the rain.

But none of that compares to this.

…

There is no concept of time up here. Or out here, or down here…I don't even know if I'm still somewhere in the dollhouse.

I have no idea how much time has passed, but I'm very aware of that fact that all feelings of hunger or thirst are gone. I remember what Mona said, back when we were stuck outside, that when you're no longer hungry or thirsty it means your organs are shutting down.

At this point, I don't even care. Aside from the occasional few minutes – those three minutes every night, maybe? – there is no break from the voices screaming down that I'm a "bitch" and a "killer," and no break from the blood red words projected all around me.

It's gotten colder, too, a strong wind blowing from every direction. I lay curled up, shivering, on the freezing concrete, goose bumps now a permanent fixture on my bare arms. I still can't figure out why I'm suddenly dressed like Alison…except that Bethany was also wearing this shirt the night she died.

Was Bethany the one who hit Ali? Is that why these dark, accusing voices keep screaming that I'm a murderer?

But Alison's still alive. So who else could Bethany have killed?

After a while, though, I can't even think about that. Just like when we were locked out of the bunker, all of my thoughts turn to mush, my mind constantly blank. I don't even keep my ears covered anymore. The words barely bother me, but I still have to squint away from the bright red writing, and the constant wind has given me a cold.

The sky doesn't even change to sunlight, or rain, or anything…it stays night at all times, the same fake stars twinkling in the sky.

So when the sky suddenly goes out, I'm more than a little surprised.

The stars disappear, the inky blackness dissolving instantly into gray concrete with a loud bang. I gasp and struggle to my feet, turning in a slow, dizzying circle.

I'm not outside at all. I've been in a large, gray room this whole time, with bricks stacked and glued around the walls. The sky and grass below was all an illusion.

And there's a door along one wall, that I swear wasn't there before. "Please proceed to Ali's room and prepare for arrival," that awful female voice monotones, and I jump. Aside from those booming insults, this is the first voice I've heard in…days? Weeks? It feels like an eternity.

The door swings open, revealing the same dank, dark hallway that I've gotten used to, and I rush out without thinking, desperate to be anywhere but in there. I'm so deprived of food and water that I can barely walk. I lean my shoulder against the wall and stumble down the hallway, into the room meant to mimic Alison's.

I spot Spencer first, sitting on the edge of the bed and rifling through a cardboard box. Hanna and Emily are sitting nearby, and Aria is standing by the closet, rummaging through the line of yellow shirts.

"Guys," I gasp, so relieved that my knees nearly give out. I'm not alone. I'm finally not alone. And they all look fine, despite the slightly traumatized expressions on their faces and the fact that Aria seems to have gotten a haircut.

They all look up at me, and the relief is visible on their faces. "Viola," Hanna breathes, getting up from the chair and hugging me. "What happened to you? You look awful."

I open my mouth to explain, but I can't even find the words. Besides, I already feel the whole memory of that experience melting away, almost like my mind is starting to repress it. Good. If I never have to think about that place again, I'll be glad.

"I can't talk about it," I mutter, shaking my head. "What about you guys?"

"Yeah, I think some things are better left unsaid," Spencer responds, examining a little toy car in her hands.

Gazing around the room, I realize all at once that someone is missing. "Where's Mona?" I ask, terror replacing my relief.

The girls exchange glances that make me uneasy. "This is all Ali's stuff," Spencer says, gesturing to the boxes that litter the floor. "We think that 'A's' preparing for Alison to get here. The real Alison."

My blood runs cold. "So does that mean…" I trail off, unable to finish, and the others seem to feel the same way. Shaking my head, I join Spencer on the bed, reaching into the box and pulling out an empty picture frame.

I shift through the box in silence for the next few minutes, getting more and more freaked out. "A" really has managed to get a lot of Alison's personal stuff, way more than he stole for any of the other girls. She must be the one he really wants.

"Hey, Spence," Aria calls after a moment. She's leaning into the closet, fiddling with the bar holding the clothes in place. "Can you come help me with this?"

"What?" Spencer has been staring down at the same little wooden car for the past five minutes, and she looks up, caught off guard. "Help you with what?"

Aria falters for a second, pausing. "Uh, the rod's just a little bit loose."

I frown deeply, suspicious. Spencer glances down at the toy in her hand and then over at Hanna. "Hanna, can you please do it?"

"She's busy," Aria exclaims immediately, practically a shout.

Spencer sighs and resigns, getting to her feet and walking over to Aria. I roll my eyes and go back to messing with the little trinket box in my hand. "Oh, yeah, I see," Spencer mutters, and then calls out, "Viola."

I jump and glance up, alarmed by the intensity of her voice. "Yeah?"

"I think we need another pair of hands. Can you help?"

"Sure," I say slowly. There's something going on here. They're both staring at me, their eyes wide, so I set down the box and hurry over.

Aria pushes aside a few of the yellow shirts, identical to the one I'm wearing, and my heart stops at what is scratched into the wooden back of the closet.

 _HE'S GOING TO KILL ME. –M_

A sob catches in my throat as I stare at the words. "Oh my god," I whisper, keeping my voice low so Hanna and Emily won't hear, though I have no idea why they can't know. Maybe they were more affected by whatever happened to them all than Spencer and Aria.

I stumble back from the closet and sit down hard on the edge of the bed, feeling a little like I'm going to pass out again. I hear the other girls talking again, about trinkets of their own that they've found in their own rooms, but I'm not listening.

We need to find my sister. And we need to do it soon.

...

 **Let me know what you think, and once again, please vote on the poll on my profile! Next, the girls put their last escape plan into action.**


	57. Chapter 57

**Thank you to potterjay92, nick2951, RHatch89, and Guest for reviewing, and to GMWfan23 for following. I appreciate your kind words as usual! Please, please review this chapter as well to let me know what you think. I really enjoy hearing your thoughts on the dollhouse and what is going on, and this is quite an exciting chapter.**

Chapter 57

I'm out of bed the second I hear the click of the generator, pulling on the same plain shoes I've worn since I got here and rushing into the hallway just as the four others are all doing the same.

"Let's go," Aria says, tugging on Hanna's arm, and I'm about to start running when Spencer begins speaking.

"Chandelier's rituals, sister launched lair, a ruler's list chained. They're all anagrams for Charles DiLaurentis."

"Whoa, slow down," I interrupt, pretty sure that she just spoke a different language. "What are you talking about?"

"We found a piece of paper with those phrases in Mona's room," Spencer explains as we all follow her into the game room. "We couldn't figure out what they meant. Charles must have planted it there." She goes on before I even have time to comprehend this. "Some of the toys in Ali's room were hers, but some of them were his. I feel like they grew up together. If I'm right, everything that matters most to Charles is in this vault. If we get in, we can use what's inside to bargain our way out."

I wish my brain worked as fast as hers. I shake my head, impressed, but Emily looks doubtful. "But Mona said we won't make it to the vault before the power comes on."

Spencer pauses, mouthing something, and smiles. We're standing right outside of the game room. "If I'm right, this is as far as we need to go. I counted the steps from the vault to the prom room."

My head is starting to spin. "Of course you did," Aria murmurs, looking just as dazed as I feel.

"It's eighty four," Spencer goes on. "And that's just one hallway over. Coming back this way, it's eighty one steps. The vault is on the other side of this wall."

"Fine," I cut in, folding my arms. "But how does that help us? We still can't get in."

But Spencer's smile doesn't fade. She looks almost invigorated. "Charles disappeared like Houdini when Mona came into the room. So there's gotta be like a secret passageway, or a trapdoor or something."

I nod, the mention of my sister flooding fear through me again. I'll try anything if it means finding her. The familiar clicking starts up again just as we're walking into the child-like playroom, and a moment later the shrill alarm begins to blare.

I duck down, pressing my hands to my ears, even though this has nothing on those screaming insults from that imaginary rooftop. "He knows that we're out!"

"Just help me move this!" Spencer yells. She's pushing against the bunk beds, and we run over to join her. I throw all of the little strength I have left into shoving against the bars of the bed, but it's no use. It's too heavy.

Emily straightens up, rushing across the room. "There's something behind this," she yells above the alarm, running over to the large dresser against the opposing wall. She shoves at it, pushing it aside to reveal a vent.

I kneel down, skinning my knee against the floor and not even caring as I dig my nails into the vent cover, pulling it off. The second it's free, the alarm abruptly stops, silence taking over.

I straighten up, shocked. Why would "A" stop the alarm the moment we find the way into his precious vault? Almost like…he wanted us to find it.

"Go!" Spencer urges, thumping me on the back lightly. "Come on!" I shake my head, shooting back into reality, and crawl headfirst through the vent without letting myself think about what a mistake this could be.

I tumble into the vault and let out a breath. It looks just like Spencer and Mona described it, with an old-fashioned popcorn machine, projector, and framed pictures everywhere, all of a little blond-haired boy. Charles.

Charles DiLaurentis.

Spencer walks over to the projector and turns it on. A video begins playing on the screen in front of us, of Mrs. DiLaurentis with a baby and two little boys at what looks to be an apple farm. I stare for a moment, unable to believe this – _Jason has a twin?_ – before Spencer reaches forward, ripping the film strip out of the projector and holding it in front of the light. It begins to burn, a small flame erupting and destroying the film.

I gape at her. I can't imagine having the guts to do something so crazy, but Spencer doesn't look the slightest bit scared as she glares up at the camera and declares, "Game on, Charles. We want Mona back."

Aria nods, a glint of enthusiasm in her eye. "Let's torch this place." She grabs a porcelain doll and holds it up to the flaming roll of film, setting it on fire as well. Then she drops it into the wooden crib in front of us.

I feel a rush of adrenaline as we all follow her lead, grabbing toys and throwing them into the crib, engulfing them in flames. The room grows hot, but I barely notice. It doesn't even occur to me that this is possibly an extremely stupid idea until Aria stops dead, her eyes widening at the growing fire. "Oh my god. Guys, what if 'A's' not watching us? What if we're the only ones here?"

The realization hits me like a bus. We're lighting a small room on fire. And we're trapped inside. "What do we do?" I cry, whirling around in search of an exit. "It's spreading too fast!"

Expressions of triumph turn to ones of panic as we spin around the room, desperately searching for something, anything to put out the flames. I will not die here. I have been through so much hell over the past few months that I refuse to let a stupid mistake of our own get us all killed.

"Here," Emily yells, pulling at a thick curtain attached to the wall. "Aria, help me pull this down!"

Aria runs to join her, and I do as well, yanking down the curtain to reveal a window.

And "A" is standing right on the other side.

I scream, the sound ripping through my lungs as I leap back, away from the hooded figure. "Oh my god! He's watching!"

"Grab everything," Emily shouts, her eyes wide and frenzied. I realize her idea just as she says it. "The pictures, the baby clothes, and throw them in the fire."

"Say goodbye to your soul," Aria says viciously, and the next few moments are a blur. I lose sight of the figure in the hoodie, if he's watching us or not, as I tear around the room, grabbing handfuls of mementos and pitching them into the flames. The smoke is beginning to make my eyes sting and my throat burn, but I'm so filled with adrenaline that I don't care. I throw all of my fury into this, all of my desires for revenge, as I snatch up photographs of that little blond-haired boy and let them burn.

Sweat beads on my forehead, and I'm just realizing that we all still might very well burn to death in here when the fire alarm goes off, only sounding about half as loud as the usual awful alarm. Sprinklers descend from the ceiling.

The smoke is still so thick that I have to pause for a moment, coughing, before realizing that the alarm has triggered all of the locks to switch off. The door is open.

"Come on!" I scream, and bolt from the room without waiting for the others. They're right on my heels and we run down the hallway, everyone yelling above the alarm. I swallow hard and scream my sister's name as loud as I can, my desperation growing.

After a few moments, I force myself to go silent, straining my ears. "Guys, be quiet," I yell, and everyone halts. I hold up my hand and listen.

"Help me, please!"

The voice is faint but undeniably my sister. "This way, come on!" I yell, and take off in the opposite direction, the others right behind me.

"In here!" Aria points in the direction of a small, narrow doorway, partially hidden behind another wall. We squeeze through, and I'm instantly taken back to those horrible few weeks that I spent in this very room. My heart rate quickens at the memory.

The hole looms ahead of us, deeper than I thought when I was in there myself. It's a tiny room, surrounded by dirt, and I skid to a stop before I topple right in.

I grip the edge of the hole and lean over. Mona stands at least fifteen feet below us, her arms wrapped around herself. She's sobbing and shaking all over, her clothes dirty and her hair unkempt. I gasp. I've never seen her like this, not once, and I feel completely unsettled.

The other girls crowd around me, all of them crying out in alarm. "Please help me," my sister cries out through sobs, and I whirl around frantically.

"What are we gonna do?" I scream, my heart beating hard. Smoke is beginning to waft in from the hallway, and I cough, not even bothering to cover my mouth.

"Hang on," Spencer yells down, spinning around, her gaze sweeping around the room. "We're gonna get you out, okay?"

It's Emily who lurches forward, grabbing a rope from a hook in the corner. "Use this!"

"Lower me down!" I yell, grabbing one end and rushing to the edge of the hole.

"Are you sure?"

" _Hurry!_ " I grip it tightly with both hands as the girls grab onto the other end. Spencer nods, and I take in a breath, brace myself, and jump into the hole.

The rope burns my hands as I lower myself to the ground, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. My heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest. Memories of the time I spent in here are rushing back to me, and my arms begin to shake so badly that I nearly drop the rope.

Finally my feet connect with the dirt, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Okay," I say frantically. "Okay."

"Please help me," Mona sobs desperately, grabbing onto my hand. "I can't climb it."

"I know," I say, pulling the rope further toward me. "You're gonna be fine, okay? Just…okay, come here." I loop the thick rope around both of our waists and pull it tight. My hands are trembling, and it takes me a few moments of fumbling before I manage to tie it into a steady knot.

"Okay!" I yell up, spotting four concerned faces peering down at us. "Go!" I wrap one arm tightly around my sister and hold on to the rope with the other as it goes taut. We begin to rise up, and I gasp, envisioning all of the ways that this could go horribly wrong, and probably will. I hold back a cough. Shouldn't the smoke be dying down by now?

But the rope holds, by some miracle, and considering we've both been starved and are probably very unhealthy weights, it takes only minutes to reach the edge of the hole. "Thank god," Aria groans, dropping the thick twine and wiping a hand over her forehead.

As soon as I'm upright, I undo the knot from around Mona and myself, letting it fall to the ground. "You're okay," I breathe in relief, hugging her tight and smoothing my hand over her hair. "You're okay."

But there's no time to stand around. The doors could lock again at any moment, and we have no idea if "A" is still lurking around here.

"Let's go," Spencer calls, looping her arm around Mona's shoulders. I do the same on her other side, and we rush down the corridor, helping her limp along.

The ladder leading to the silo and our freedom is only yards away. I hear voices yelling, voices that I vaguely recognize but can't make out, from the other side of the doors.

My heart seizes with about a million different emotions. I can't believe we're actually about to get out of here. I suddenly can't stand still, and run forward, leaving Spencer to keep my sister upright. All of the hunger pangs and exhaustion rush out of me, leaving only desperation and adrenaline. _I have to get out of here._

Aria is already halfway up the ladder and I scramble after her, nearly pushing Emily right out of my way. "Help me open this!" Aria says, glancing over her shoulder, and I wriggle up the ladder beside her. Emily joins us, and we throw ourselves into the wooden doors until they fly open.

Aria shoots out first, and I tumble after her, out into the dark, fresh air. Stars shine above me – real stars in a real sky – and I stumble out, coughing on the sudden rush of air.

The other girls spill out around me, and I whirl back around, joining Mona and Spencer. We hold on tightly to each other, watching Aria run right into Ezra's arms and Hanna into Caleb's. Alison, wearing – shocker – the yellow top, runs to hug Emily.

I can't even begin to wonder why they're all here, or how they found us. Police sirens echo in the distance, growing closer, and a few officers push their way through the branches, making way for a creeping ambulance.

My breathing is shallow and the world is tilting around me, but for once I'm not worried. We're free. The police are here, we're out of the bunker, and we're _free_.

"Spencer!" a voice yells, and a moment later Toby emerges from the bushes. I look over at Spencer just in time to watch about a million emotions pass over her face as she releases us and runs to join him.

"Oh my god," I gasp, because that's the only thing I can think to say.

Mona has been holding onto me tightly, still shaking, but pulls away, her eyes widening. "Viola."

"What?" I ask, following her gaze. Then I feel my own eyes widening.

Justin is walking in our direction, gazing around. I can only stare at him for a moment before releasing my sister and running over. "Justin!"

"Viola," he gasps, and my arms are wrapped around him before I have time to think. He's hugging me back, breathing hard, but it's purely platonic, more out of comfort than anything.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in shock, pulling back to stare at him. His eyes are red-rimmed, with dark circles underneath, and his hair is rumpled. "How did you find us?"

"You're alive," he says, holding onto my arms and staring at me. "I can't believe it."

"How did you find me?" I repeat, unable to believe this.

He shakes his head, seeming to snap back to reality. "I couldn't stop thinking about that conversation we had the night you went missing. It freaked me out for weeks, you were acting so weird. And then when I heard about those other four girls disappearing a month later, I figured you had to be connected. So I came over to Rosewood and looked around, and I met up with the other guys. We came up with a plan, with that girl. Alison."

"Alison?" I repeat, my head spinning. "Wait. You actually – you actually cared enough to do all that?"

"Of course," he says, grinning lopsidedly. "I still care about you. I always will." And then he's leaning in, his hand moving to my shoulder, and so am I…

And then I leap back, dazed. "I'm sorry, I can't right now, I – I have to be with – where's my sister? I'll – I'm sorry." He's staring at me. I'm clearly making about as much sense out loud as I am in my head.

But I can't do this right now. I can't kiss my ex-boyfriend, no matter what he did to deserve it, while so much else is going on. I offer what is probably a strange smile, then turn and gaze around the clearing.

Mona is sitting on the back of the open ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders while a paramedic kneels in front of her, checking her vision. I rush over, wiping dirt off of my clothes. "Do you need assistance?" a man in uniform asks, placing his hand on my arm, but I shake him off.

"No, I'm fine," I insist, even though I still feel like I could pass out at any moment. "I'm her sister." I put my hand on her shoulder, just as I begin to feel my heart rate slow. I notice a phone in the hand of the officer and frown. "Can I use that? To call my mother? Please?"

He hesitates. "That's usually something handled by professionals."

"Please," I say again, more desperate than I realized. "I need to talk to her."

The officer looks uncertain, but relents, probably because refusing to let a kidnapped girl talk to her own mother borders a little too close to cruelty. He hands over the phone and I immediately type in the number.

"Hello?"

Tears rush to my eyes and I feel my throat constrict. I haven't heard my mother's voice in months. "Mom," I choke out, a tear falling down my cheek. "It's me."

There is such a long pause that I wonder for a moment if she dropped the phone. "Vi-Viola?" she stammers, her voice shell-shocked.

"It's me," I say again, laughing through my tears. "I'm okay. We're both okay."

I hear my mother gasp. "Viola. What do you mean, you're both – "

I take in a breath, knowing how much this is going to shock her, and say, "Mona's alive, Mom. She's okay. We were kidnapped, both of us, and the others, too. We just got out. We're okay."

I barely hear my mother's response.

I barely take notice of the sudden shout of, "Hey, there's another girl down here," that echoes up from inside the bunker.

And I barely see the girl with long, scraggly blond hair and a dirty yellow top as she's wheeled out on a stretcher, through that one thought, that keeps running on repeat through my had.

 _We're okay._

...

 **Again, please drop me a review! Getting follower and favorite alerts are great, but nothing compares to hearing actual feedback from you guys! Next, the girls return from the hospital, and Viola is caught off guard at having to be the strong one for the first time.**


	58. Chapter 58

**Thank you to RHatch89, Pinkpoodle8, Diane 61, Fun With Typing, and nick2951 for reviewing the last chapter, and to Queen24824 for the favorite! I appreciate the feedback guys! Please let me know what you think about this chapter.**

Chapter 58

I thought when they carted us all to the hospital that we'd be there for weeks. I mean, it's not every day that seven teenage girls – yes, seven, there was another girl down there. Sara Harvey, the girl abducted a few towns over the day after Ali disappeared – get kidnapped and held for weeks/months/years in an underground bunker dollhouse.

But it only takes a few days for them to pump some nutrients into me via IV and decide that I'm rested enough to leave. Even Sara, who was held in that horrible place for years, was released when the rest of us were.

The first thing I notice when I walk through the front door of my house is the smell. It's something I never noticed when I lived here, when I was so used to it, but I inhale and can't help but smile. I'm home.

I walk inside and pause in front of the mirror in the entrance, beaming at myself. We were released from the hospital three hours ago, but made a pit stop before coming home. Mona stops beside me and we smile at our brown-haired reflections. Finally. Bethany Young is officially out of my life.

"I can't wait to see my room," I announce, and dash up the stairs and down the hallway.

I stop in the doorway to my bedroom, and the relief and joy hits me so hard that I nearly fall over. It looks exactly the same as it did two months ago. The light blue walls. The black and white bedspread. The white dresser and desk. And the best part is the large window that practically covers an entire wall. I walk over and pull aside the curtains, reveling in the sunlight. I haven't been in a room with natural light, not counting the hospital, in months.

I sit on the edge of my bed and hold my arm out in front of my face. It's still as skinny as a stick. But I guess that's only natural when you've been practically starved for two months.

I feel healthier though. I'm not hit by dizziness every time I move, and I'm just starting to get used to the feeling of being full instead of starving.

Even mentally, I'm starting to feel better. I still jump at loud sounds and I don't think that school is going to be on the table for another week or so, but surprisingly, I haven't had even one nightmare – my sleep has generally been dreamless – and even over just a few days, I've found myself thinking less and less of my horrible experiences.

I wonder as I climb into bed that night if I'll be able to sleep. In the hospital, it was easy, knowing that so many people were always around. And I was usually on a few painkillers or sedatives, which helped. But I barely slept fully at all during those two months in the dollhouse. I wonder if my body even knows how to fall asleep on its own.

But I'm out almost as soon as I hit the pillow. I'd forgotten how it feels to sleep on a real bed, not a dingy wrought-iron one or a cot in the hospital.

It's the best sleep I've had in months, but it only lasts a few hours. I jolt awake at three in the morning to the sound of a scream. For a second I think it came from some dream that I don't remember having, but the muffled sobs coming from the other side of the wall seem to prove otherwise.

Nauseous from being woken so quickly, I groan and hop out of bed, bracing myself for the dizziness that doesn't come. I smile despite myself. I've gotten so used to being constantly in pain or off balance from lack of food that it's always a surprise when I realize that I'm healthy again.

I pad softly down the hall and push into my sister's room. Mona is sitting up in bed, tears shining on her face. "Whoa," I say in alarm, closing the door quietly and rushing over. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"How do you deal with it?" she gasps between sobs, pressing a hand to her chest. "The nightmares?"

I wince. Oh. "Um," I mutter, feeling guilty even though there's no reason to, "actually, I haven't really been having nightmares. I haven't really dreamed at all since I got out of there."

"I have them every night. And they're getting worse. Sometimes I know that I'm dreaming but I can't move, can't do anything to wake up." Her voice cracks, leading into a fresh burst of tears.

I stare for a long moment, completely perplexed. I have never seen my sister like this, so totally unraveled. Usually I'm the one freaking out or panicking while she keeps it together, like always.

This is very unsettling.

"Hey," I stutter after an awkward amount of time, reaching out to smooth back her hair. "It's alright. You've been in hell for four months, of course you're having nightmares. But it's over. We're all safe now." She leans against my shoulder and I hesitate, battling between curiosity and sympathy.

As usual when it comes to me, the desire to pry wins out. "What are your nightmares about?" I ask quietly.

Mona reaches up to wipe at her eyes. Her face has gone completely pale. "If you don't want to tell me," I offer, feeling bad for even asking, "it's okay."

"Viola," she bursts out suddenly, sitting up. "I have to tell you something."

I shrug. "Okay."

"No. This is serious." Her voice is trembling. "You're going to really freak."

I feel myself begin to get a little nervous, and roll my eyes to hide it, internally bracing myself, because I know that whatever is coming, I have to be the strong one for once. "Sis. I just spent two months being tortured to my limits in an underground dollhouse. I think I can handle whatever it is."

"Fine." Mona takes in a breath, then grabs my hands, holding on so tightly that I wince. "I hit Alison that night."

I hear the words, but they don't make any sense in that order. "What? What night? What are you talking about?"

"The night she…went missing. I hit her. I didn't mean to, I was in her yard, and the shovel was just lying there, and everything she'd ever said and done to me just wouldn't leave my head and I…snapped."

Black dots have appeared in my vision. I'm barely listening, that horrible repressed memory from all those months ago rushing back to me, blocking out everything else.

I've known it was true, all this time, it was too vivid not to be. But I was always able to deny it…until now.

The sound of my sister's sobs brings me back to reality, and I shake my head. My chest is so tight that I can barely breathe, but I gasp out the words anyway. "I saw you. That night. I saw you with the shovel, I saw you hit Alison…and I pushed it down, up until a few months ago, I didn't even remember."

"I convinced her to run away," Mona says quietly, almost like I never spoke at all. "I found her on the side of the road later that night, and I panicked. So I drove her to that motel and convinced her to leave, that someone was out to get her. I'd wanted Alison out of my life for so long…and it finally happened."

I open and close my mouth for a moment, at a complete loss for words. "I didn't want to hurt her," Mona sobs, grabbing my arm even though I still haven't said anything. "I just wanted to scare her."

That seems like a stretch considering she hit her over the head with a shovel – I'm not sure how that could _not_ hurt someone – but I pry my arm out of her tight grip and reach over to grab a tissue from the box beside the bed. "Hey, I get it, okay?" I say gently, leaning forward to try and wipe her tears, but my hand is shaking. "She was horrible to you. I probably would have done the same thing. But she's fine, she's still alive. No one has to know. It's okay."

"No it's not," my sister says tearfully. "I have nightmares about it every night. And they've gotten worse since we got out of that place." She looks at me in sudden fear. "Alison knows that I framed her for my death. This gives her even more reason to hate me."

I sit back, shocked by this vulnerability that I have never seen before. I pull my knees under myself and sit up, putting my hands on her shoulders firmly. "Mona, listen to me," I say intently. "You are my sister, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you, alright? You've spent months trying to keep me safe. Now I'm going to make sure that you're safe. You're going to be fine." I lean forward, wrapping my arms around her tightly.

"Thank you," Mona says quietly, hugging me back. "Can you stay in here tonight? I…don't want to sleep alone."

"Of course," I say, pulling away and smiling cautiously. "You know, I don't really like being alone either, anymore."

I scoot over to the other side of the bed and turn out the light, rolling over to lie on my back. "Viola," Mona says after a long silence. "I'm sorry."

I yawn. "For what?"

"If it wasn't for me, none of this would've happened to you. The only thing you'd be worried about right now is junior year."

"No," I say quickly, frowning up at the ceiling. "Don't say that. There's only one person who's ruined my life, and that's 'A.'" I reach out blindly, grasping my sister's hand and laughing a little. "And honestly? If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't even be alive right now."

...

 **So it turns out that Viola's worst memory really is true. Next, Viola receives a very unexpected visitor. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	59. Chapter 59

**Thanks to Guest, RHatch89, potterjay92, and Pinkpoodle8 for the reviews, and to martin-ous for the favorite! There are only about ten chapters left, so please keep letting me know what you think! Also, I'm going to leave the poll on my profile up until I update again, so if you haven't, please go and vote!**

Chapter 59

Early the next morning, Mona and our mother leave for a spa that's two hours away. Mom wanted me to go, too. She almost forced me. But I declined. For some reason, even though I jump out of my skin every time someone touches me, and I can't stand the dark, I don't want to leave Rosewood.

I feel like we're getting closer to finding out who "A" is and ending this mess once and for all. We have a name: Charles. And we know that he's part of the DiLaurentis family. There's no way I can pack up and leave for a week now. I'm sick of things happening while I'm out of the loop, and I'm not going to let it happen again. I've been texting the other girls often, keeping the conversation mostly casual while trying to subtly dig for updates, but so far, they all seem to be doing what I'm doing: Recovering.

I'm curled up in a chair in the living room late that morning, reading a magazine and relishing in the quiet. My dad stayed home with me. He's supposed to be on a big important business trip in Chicago, but he took the first flight home once we escaped from the dollhouse. He said he's going to try and stay with us for as long as he can.

It's great, having my dad home. But he's spent all morning hovering around me, asking me how I am and if he can get me anything. I know he's just trying to help, but honestly, I just want things to go back to normal. Every time someone asks me how I'm doing or mentions anything about what I've been through, awful flashbacks fill my mind.

I'm vaguely aware that I should probably be seeing some sort of therapist, but I'm not about to bring it up. The last thing I want to do is spent an hour a week telling some stranger about the things I can't even tell my own parents.

The doorbell rings, and I nearly fall out of the chair. I set down the magazine shakily, realizing that the bell has the same pitch as those awful chimes. _Three chimes means we have to go to our rooms,_ I think as I get up and go to answer the door.

I'm expecting one of the girls, or a cop, maybe, to try and get some more information out of me – even though I've told them a million times that I've already said everything I know.

When I swing open the door, my eyes nearly pop out of my head. "Alison?"

"Can I come in?" she asks, twisting her hands together in what almost seems like a nervous way.

"Um, yeah," I stammer, standing aside so she can walk in. I haven't seen Alison since the night we escaped, and even then, I was so shaken up that all I really noticed was that she was wearing the same yellow shirt I was.

But now I can't stop staring as she walks into my living room. Her hair is shorter now, to her shoulders instead of halfway down her back, and she's wearing jeans and the sort of sweater that I would expect my mother to wear.

Weird.

Irritated at being interrupted, I cross my arms. "What do you want, Alison?" The words come out a little harsher than I intended.

She frowns at me, and I'm not sure if she looks offended or concerned. "I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay," she insists. "Is Mona here?"

"No," I say suspiciously, leaning back against the arm of the couch. "She's out of town with our mother. But I wanted to stay home."

"I get it," Alison says quietly, gazing around the room. "My dad wants us to leave, too. He doesn't think it's safe here."

I stare at her for a moment, blinking in surprise. "Well, I mean…it's not."

Still looking uncomfortable, she rubs at her arms, not meeting my eyes. "I know."

I take a step back. Something about the way she said that, like she knows exactly what it's like, like she's been through it all, too, rubs me the wrong way. "But that's the thing, Ali," I say, not even trying to hide my annoyance now. "You _don't_ know. You have no idea what it was like to be trapped down in that place. We've been through things you can't even imagine."

"I've never been kidnapped," she relents, and I bite my lip, reminded of the fake story that she concocted when she first came back to Rosewood. "But I've been through things, too. I was attacked in my own house, Viola."

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. The last thing I want to do is relive all of my various traumas. "Did you come here just to have some stupid competition? Who's had it worse?"

"No," Alison says, stepping closer. Her eyes are downcast. "I never got to thank you," she goes on, speaking quickly. "For keeping my secret, back in Ravenswood."

"What?" I demand, furrowing my brow as that day comes rushing back to me. Following one of "A's" hints to Ravenswood. Chasing one of the two red coats up the stairs, up to Ezra's lair. Finding out that Alison was still alive.

It seems like a lifetime ago.

"I thought for sure that you were going to tell the girls that you saw me," Alison goes on, finally meeting my eyes. "That's why I ran."

A little embarrassed, though I'm not sure why, I shrug and tap my fingers against the arm of the couch. "You asked me to keep it to myself. I know what it's like to have secrets."

"You really helped me that day," she insists, looking a little embarrassed now, too. "Thank you. And I really am sorry for what you went through…in that place."

I flinch. _Psycho. Murderer._ The voice from that fake rooftop rings through my head, as clearly as if I was still there, and I close my eyes, turning away. I can't handle talking about the dollhouse. Not yet. But I guess it's unrealistic of me to expect that no one's going to bring it up. "Don't be sorry," I mutter, pressing a hand to my throbbing forehead.

Alison rubs her arms, and again, I'm struck by how different she looks. In her buttoned sweater and jeans, she could be my mother's age. "I _am_ sorry," she says intently. "Most of this is my fault, anyway."

This is the second time I've heard this kind of self blame in less than twenty four hours. But this time I'm not talking to my sister, and I can't think of anything comforting to say, because really…she's kind of right.

I think for a moment, wondering what my life would be like right now if I'd never met Alison, if she'd never chosen my sister as one of her verbal punching bags. Mona never would've become "A," no one would have stolen the game from her, and the dollhouse never would have happened.

My life would be… _normal._

I turn back to Alison, hit with the urge to say all of this, but they're not the words that spill from my mouth. "Ali…who is Charles?"

"I don't know," she says instantly, her look of shame turning to one of concern. "I asked my dad yesterday…he told me there's no Charles in our family."

"That can't be true," I snap, suddenly angry. "There were all those pictures down in that place, of that little blond boy…and that video…" I think back to the old-style video footage that we found, of the little boys with Jessica DiLaurentis at the Campbell Family Apple Farm. There's no way that Charles isn't a DiLaurentis. There's just no way.

"I know that he lied to me," Alison says sharply, looking uncomfortable. "But there's nothing I can do to get him to talk."

I raise an eyebrow before I can stop myself. The old Alison would have pursued this relentlessly, would have yelled and threatened and held her breath until her father confessed. But this Alison…I obviously don't know her at all. And it's starting to make me mad.

"He's your father," I say harshly, frowning at her. "You're going to have to make him give you answers."

"You're not the only one telling me that," Alison mutters, moving toward the door. "And trust me, Viola, I want to know the truth just as badly as you do."

I sigh, letting my arms fall to my sides. I've never been so tired in my life. More than ever, I can't wait for this whole thing to be over. And even though, in some ways, we're closer than ever to the end, in others, I feel like we've never been farther away.

"That's all I wanted to say," Alison says quietly, pulling the door open slowly. "I just hope you're doing okay."

I force a smile, nodding. "Thanks, Alison. I'll be fine. Eventually."

She nods back and slips out, letting the door shut behind her. Exhausted from that conversation alone, I flop down on the couch and lean back, grimacing.

I'm still there several hours later, curled up in the chair, watching television and trying to think about anything other than Charles and the dollhouse, when the phone rings.

I jump, my heart leaping into my chest, and I get up from the couch, hoping it's just my mother calling. I'm starting to wish that I had gone with them to Saratoga, after all.

But it's not my mom's number that projects up from the caller ID.

ROSEWOOD PD.

"No," I groan, glancing at the window. My dad's out picking up takeout for dinner – he offered to cook but I politely declined. The last thing I feel like doing is having a chat with the police, but I brace myself and pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Viola Vanderwaal?" the male voice says gruffly.

I take a deep breath and respond shakily, "Yes."

"We need you to come down to the station."

My breath catches in my throat. "Why?" I ask, my voice small.

The officer clears his throat. "We have a lead on the identity of your kidnapper."

...

 **Let me know what you think! Next, Viola must make a big decision while being questioned by the police.**


	60. Chapter 60

**Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, and potterjay92 for reviewing! My reviews have been dropping lately which is kind of disappointing...please don't give up on this story now! There are only about ten chapters left. So please review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 60

"Are you sure you can do this?" My dad puts the car in park and turns in his seat to look at me. "I could tell them that you're not ready. We could come back in a week or so."

My eyes widen and I shake my head at him, even though I'm clutching the door handle so hard that my knuckles have turned white and I feel like I'm going to be sick. They know who "A" is. _It's almost over._ "Dad, no. That wouldn't be fair to the rest of the girls. We need to end this."

"Alright," my father says with a heavy sigh, patting my arm and opening his car door. "But I'm coming with you."

I climb out of the car and walk with him up the steps to the police station, surprised at how wobbly my legs feel. I'm way more nervous than I thought I was going to be. Every possible suspect is running through my head, every man that I've spoken to over the past few years. _Noel…Lucas…Ezra…_ Even Caleb and Toby pop into my head for a brief second, but I force them out. No way. Toby's done his time on the "A" team, just like me. And Caleb wouldn't hurt a fly.

We enter the precinct and take a seat on a wooden bench to wait. My dad reaches over, putting a hand on my knee, which is shaking. "Viola. Are you sure you're alright?"

I swallow hard against the sudden rush of bile in my throat, and nod forcefully. "I'm fine."

Police officers are milling around, including that new guy, Lorenzo. He's been assigned to Alison's house. We have a cop outside of our house, too, mostly, although there wasn't anyone there tonight.

But I haven't seen so many men in uniforms since the night we escaped, when it seemed like the entire Rosewood police force, and even some officers from the state, surrounded the entrance to that bunker. Memories keep flooding into my head, making me dizzy, and it's getting harder and harder to keep them out.

I'm not so sure I can do this. I glance over my shoulder, hoping that Hanna or Spencer or one of the others – heck, I'd even settle for Sara Harvey – will round the corner, in the same situation that I'm in. Even with my dad sitting next to me, I feel totally alone.

My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. I'm positive that I'm going to be sick. "Dad – " I blurt out, but at that moment a voice cuts me off.

"Miss Vanderwaal?"

Detective Tanner is standing in front of us. "Um, y-yeah," I stammer, not trusting myself to stand. I wonder how pale I look.

"Come with me," she says, not unkindly, and I finally take a breath and rise slowly, impressed with myself when my knees don't even give out. Dad puts his hands on his knees and begins to stand as well, but Tanner clears her throat. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to wait out here."

My dad and I both protest at once. "But – "

"This questioning must be done in private," she says, sounding only minimally apologetic, and gestures for me to follow her down the narrow hallway. I give my father a nervous look and follow before he can stop me. Now that this is actually happening, I'm somehow a little calmer.

I follow Tanner into a small interrogation room. She takes a seat at one end of the table so I sit down across from her. The room is tiny and dark, with only a bulb providing light, and my claustrophobia hits me hard. I'm taken back to that deep hole, and I press my hand to my chest, whirling around.

Tanner raises her eyebrows. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm – no – can we…can we open the door or something?" I stutter, my eyes darting around the little room. No windows and no furniture besides the brown table and chairs. I don't think I can handle this. Not after I've spent the better part of two months stuck in spaces about the size of this.

Tanner looks uncertain, but seems to recognize my panic and relents, walking over to the door and opening it partway. I still can barely see out, but the sliver of light that creeps in eases my panic a little. I lean back against the chair, breathing hard.

"You found him?" I gasp out before the detective has a chance to speak. "The person who kidnapped us?"

"We have a potential suspect," she says coolly, folding her hands on the table.

I can't tell if this is protocol, of if she's being irritating on purpose, but I can't take this anymore. "Who is it?" I practically scream.

"I'm going to tell you," she says slowly, not looking fazed in the slightest by my outburst, "but first I need to ask you a few questions."

I sink down in the chair. I should have known this was coming. The police asked us all a few general questions while we were in the hospital, but I was never questioned directly. I really should have prepared myself for this.

"Did you ever directly see your kidnapper during your two month abduction?" Tanner asks, pulling a small legal pad and pen from the drawer on the side of the table.

I wonder briefly if the others have been questioned, and if they have been, what they told her. I wish I'd asked, so I could make sure my story lined up with theirs.

I shake my head at my own thought process, wanting to punch myself. Who cares? This isn't the time for lying. This is the time to finally let the truth come out. "Yes," I answer cautiously, thinking hard before I say something I might regret. "But just a few times, and never his face. He was always wearing that black hoodie."

"And this outfit concealed his face at all times?"

"He wore a mask," I confirm, remembering the night of our escape, when we ripped down the curtain only to find "A" standing on the other side. I shudder at the recollection of that faceless black mask staring back at me.

Tanner writes for a moment, nodding contemplatively. "So you never came face to face with your kidnapper. You were never able to notice any identifying features?"

I open my mouth to say no once again, but pause. "Yes," I burst out before I can think too hard about it. "The night I was kidnapped at the school. I saw long, blond hair."

The detective's hand freezes above the notepad. "Blond hair?" she repeats, her voice filled with interest. "Really."

"At the time I thought it was Alison," I go on, invigorated now. How many times in the past year have I wanted to do just this, tell the police everything? It's kind of empowering. _Take that, Charles._ "But now I know it couldn't have been."

"A wig, most likely," Tanner muses, but she makes a note on the pad anyway. "To throw you off of his trail." She pauses, then looks up at me again. "And you're telling me that you're sure, absolutely positive, that you never saw the face of the person behind the mask?"

I'm getting a little sick of this. "I swear," I insist, shaking my head. "None of us did, I don't think. For as long as this has been going on, it's always been that black hoodie."

Tanner is staring at me, her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. I scoot back in my chair, uncomfortable. I wonder if I've said something wrong. After a few long moments, I cough and ask, "So is that it? Are you going to tell me who it is now?"

Finally, Tanner tears her gaze away from mine, shuffling the papers in front of her. "Andrew Campbell was arrested in the woods last night," she says, and my mouth falls open. _Andrew Campbell is Charles?_ "We found links between his family's apple farm and the bunker where you were kept, and he went on the run shortly after the abduction of your friends."

"So…he did it? Andrew's…" I trail off, the word "Charles" on the tip of my tongue. But do the police know about Charles? We burned that video of the apple farm, and as far as I know, that whole room went down in flames. So I clear my throat and end with, "Our kidnapper?"

"Our only evidence against him is circumstantial," Tanner says, "which is why I need to know right now…are you sure that you never caught a glimpse of the face of your tormentor when you were down there?"

I freeze, caught by indecision. It would be so easy. All I'd have to do is lie and tell her that yes, I just remembered, I _did_ see "A's" face once, and it did look suspiciously like Andrew Campbell. And "A" would be out of our lives for good.

But the doubt is gnawing at my stomach. What if he's not? What if the apple farm was a ruse, another way for "A" to throw us off his trail? It's not like he hasn't done it a million times before. Can I really risk an innocent boy being locked up over two pieces of, Tanner's right, circumstantial evidence?

I could, I realize, but the guilt would probably eat me alive. "No," I burst out, decided. "I really didn't."

Tanner makes another note on the pad and nods, standing. "Then I think we're done here, aren't we?" She pushes the door open the rest of the way and gestures for me to exit first.

I practically run down the hallway and my dad jumps up from the bench, hugging me. "Are you alright?" he asks as I pull away.

I take a shaky breath and nod. "Everything's fine. She just had a couple questions."

"You can go," Tanner confirms from behind me. "We'll call if we find new information, or if we require more questioning." As my dad helps me into my jacket, I glance over my shoulder, watching Tanner lean down and mutter something into the little mic on her shoulder.

"Ready to go?" my dad asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his own jacket.

"Um," I stammer, pulling my eyes away from Tanner. "Yeah."

We start down the hallway toward the doors to the station. Just before I step outside, I hear a door opening behind me, and a gruff voice growls, "Come on, move it."

Startled, I turn. Andrew Campbell has just been led out of a room to the left. His hands are cuffed behind his back and an officer – Barry, I think? – is holding onto his elbow, pushing him in the direction of the interrogation room I just came out of.

I know Tanner said that they don't have any hard evidence against him…but could I actually be looking right at Charles? At "A"? I must make some sort of sound at that possibility, and Andrew glances over, his eyes meeting mine.

I gasp, unable to tear my eyes away as his harden into a glare. He looks furious. And also a little more upset than I would expect a sociopath like "A" to be. But still…is that because he was arrested for a crime he didn't commit…or because he wants his dolls back?

I shudder just as my dad touches my arm. "Viola. What's the matter?"

I turn fully away from Andrew and bound down the steps. "Nothing. Let's get out of here."

...

 **Hope you enjoyed; please drop me a review! Next, Viola catches up with the girls for the first time since leaving the hospital, and finally reveals one of her oldest and biggest secrets. Any guesses what that is?**


	61. Chapter 61

**Thank you to potterjay92, nick2951, RHatch89, and Pinkpoodle8 for the reviews, and to BadSmiles for the favorite/follow! Again, please review and let me know what you think! There are only ten chapters left, so your feedback means more to me than ever.**

Chapter 61

"He said that Charles was his _imaginary friend?_ "

"Yeah, that's what he told me," Spencer insists, looking around at all of us. I'm perched on the edge of the chair that Hanna is sitting in, and we exchange a glance.

"Well, you didn't believe him, did you?" I demand, because I'm the only one here who is hearing this for the first time. Part of me is a little annoyed that this is the first they've told me. But most of me is just glad that at least they're bothering to tell me anything at all.

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Of course not. But I don't think that Jason lied. I think Mr. DiLaurentis lied to Jason."

I shake my head, more confused than ever. "What does Mr. DiLaurentis have to do with Charles?"

"Charlie," Hanna interjects, and Spencer gives her a look.

"Apparently one day he told Jason that Charlie had to go away. Jason was never allowed to talk about him again."

"Yeah, so there has to be more to the story, right?" Aria says eagerly. "Nothing about that makes sense."

I sigh and rest my chin in my hand, disappointed. When Spencer sent me a text telling me to come to her house, I was sure that they were going to have some big revelation to tell me. But we're not much closer than we were before this.

"So that's it?" I ask, fingering the strap of my purse, which is laying on the ground beside me. "That's all you had to tell me?"

They all exchange an uneasy look and I sit up, suddenly alarmed. "What?"

"We went to see Dr. Sullivan today," Emily explains, her brow furrowed in worry. "For help."

"Did you tell her?" I demand, not even irritated that they didn't invite me along. "About Charles?"

"We were about to," Hanna bursts out in frustration. "And then 'A' sent us a video."

I feel my heart rate increase. "What? What was the video of?" But I'm not even sure that I want to know.

Emily closes her eyes and takes a breath, but it's Aria who answers. " 'A' was in Emily's house. He was holding a knife up to Sara."

I gasp, going momentarily numb. Whoa. I know that "A" has been violent before – hello, he knocked me out about five times in the dollhouse – but actually wielding a knife at someone? I suddenly feel like this whole situation is spiraling out of control.

"Charles knew that we were in Sullivan's office," Spencer goes on, her voice low. "He threatened to hurt Sara if we told her anything."

"Is she okay?" I ask in alarm. I haven't spoken much to Sara Harvey – and not at all since we've been out of the hospital – but she's been staying at Emily's house for the past few days, and I know that her home situation is pretty sucky. I feel bad for her – at least I had a nice house and family to come back to, but Sara has nothing.

"She's fine," Emily says quickly, her cheeks reddening. I bite my lip and look away. Emily's not falling for Sara, is she? "But we wanted to warn you so you don't make the same mistake that we did."

Fiddling with my hands, I think about all they've told me. One thought keeps bouncing back into my head. "Did you tell Jason?" I ask Spencer. "That you think his dad lied to him about Charlie?"

"No." She shakes her head, and I notice for the first time how red her eyes look. It reminds me of how she looked back in the fall, back when she was convinced that Ezra was "A" and staying up all night, hopped up on pills, to prove it. I wonder now if she's having the same problem. "We haven't told Jason or Alison."

I frown down at my lap. "I feel bad for him. This whole thing has just been the past year of our lives. But we're basically ripping apart his whole childhood."

Hanna raises an eyebrow at me. She doesn't look like she's slept much, either. "Since when do you care so much about Jason?"

"He really helped me one night," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I resist the urge to clap my hand over my mouth. I haven't let myself think about that night in a long time, and I always told myself that I would never tell a soul.

But they're all staring at me, obviously intrigued, so I shrug and go on, as vaguely as possible, "I…um, I went to a party at Sean's house the summer that everything…happened. I had a few drinks and he found me on the sidewalk and drove me home."

Emily smiles, but she looks a little dubious. "Don't you live, like, three blocks away from Sean's house?"

"Lightweight," Hanna giggles, whacking me on the arm.

This would be the perfect opportunity for me to end this conversation, now that everyone's in good spirits, but for some reason, the words spill out. "I wasn't just drunk, you guys. I was having a panic attack."

"Why?" Spencer and Aria say at once.

I take a deep breath, but for some reason, I'm not afraid to tell them. It was so long ago that it almost feels like it happened to a different person. And in a way, I guess it did, compared to everything I've been through since then. "Ian was at the party. He cornered me in a bedroom."

Aria's mouth falls open. Spencer looks sick to her stomach. "He tried to…"

"Yes," I say quickly before she can get the word out. I don't think I can handle her saying it out loud. "I got away and ran halfway down the block, but then everything started spinning and I had to sit down. Jason was driving by and found me squatting there. If it wasn't for him…I don't know what I would have done."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" Spencer demands, though she doesn't sound angry. "Back when we thought that Ian killed Alison?"

I shrug weakly, remembering that conversation in the bathroom, so long ago. "We weren't…" I trail off, the word "friends" stuck in my throat. Can I really consider these girls my friends now? It doesn't feel right, so I start over. "I didn't know you guys that well then. It's even hard for me to talk about now."

Hanna puts her arm around me, smiling, even though her eyes are sad. "You could have told me," she says quietly. "You were like family back then."

I laugh a little. "Well, my actual family doesn't know, so…"

Spencer shakes her head, looking incredulous. "Wow. I was on the 'A' team at the same time that you were, and even I didn't know."

"Trust me," I mutter, pushing my hair out of my face. "I made sure that secret stayed in the dark."

"Everyone has secrets," Hanna says, her voice changing from concerned to determined. "And we're going to find out Mr. D's."

…

It's late that night, but for the first time, I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about Charles, picturing the little blond-haired boy in that video. What could have happened to him to make him such a twisted psychopath? And who _is_ he?

I'm curled up on the couch in the living room, watching the news on low, because I don't want to wake my dad. But when Andrew Campbell's face fills the screen, I bolt upright and grab the remote, turning up the volume.

"Eighteen-year-old Andrew Campbell, the primary suspect in the kidnapping investigation of seven teenage girls, was officially released from his jail hold earlier this evening. Though police found connections between the site where the girls were held to the Campbell family apple farm, hard evidence could not be found to tie Campbell to the abduction."

I mute the volume again and stare at the screen. Was it because of my interrogation that the police released Andrew? Was it because I couldn't identify him as the person tormenting us in that dungeon?

My stomach sinks. What if he really did do it? I may have just helped "A" go free again. I pick up my phone, half expecting a taunting text. When it's thankfully silent, I send off a quick text to Mona: _Cops just released Andrew. Back to square one._

A moment later my phone chimes, but the message isn't from my sister. It's a message from Spencer, with a photo attached. I open the picture first. It's of Alison's mother with the baby and those two little boys, and looks to be from the same day that video was taken. The boy in the middle is circled in red.

I open the text. _Mr. D told Ali the truth. Charles is her brother. He was sent to Radley._

My phone nearly falls out of my hand. I guess I should have expected this, I mean, what other explanation could there have been? And it only makes sense that the boy who grew up to become "A" spent his childhood in a sanitarium.

My hands are shaking so badly that it takes a few minutes to type out a response. _He's the one who's been doing all of this to us?_

It feels like hours before Spencer writes back, but in reality, the text comes only minutes later. _It can't be…Charles is dead._

 _..._

 **So Viola's oldest secret is out. Next, Mona returns to Rosewood, and Viola finds herself wrapped up in the drama with Lesli Stone. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**


	62. Chapter 62

**Thanks to potterjay92, nick2951, RHatch89, BadSmiles, and Pinkpoodle8 for the reviews! BadSmiles, it is so cool to know that people from around the world are reading this story! I'm so glad that even if English isn't your first language - and I understood your review perfectly, by the way - that you are still able to enjoy it.**

 **This chapter is pretty exciting - let me know what you think!**

Chapter 62

I wake up a few days later to the smell of bacon. For a moment, I think that I must be dreaming. My dad can barely make ice. And it's just after seven. There's no way he could have run out to get breakfast anywhere.

I heave myself out of bed, my stomach lurching as I look at the outfit laid out on my bed. I was planning on going back to school today. I know that Hanna started yesterday, and the others are supposed to be going back soon, too.

But I'm not sure I can do it.

The thought of rushing through the hallways, hearing kids laughing and lockers slamming and teachers droning seems so…mundane. After everything I've been through, I can barely fathom the thought of it.

Maybe I'll make a coffee run and decide from there.

I pull on the outfit that I picked out and head downstairs, still confused about the smell. Maybe my dad has some secret cooking skill that I never knew about? Or maybe he found some bacon scented candle or something. Gross.

I walk into the kitchen and my keys fall out of my hand, clattering to the floor, but I barely notice. " _Mom?_ "

My mother turns away from the stove, her face lighting up. "Viola."

I rush over, throwing my arms around her tightly. I've never been more grateful to see my mom, but the first words out of my mouth are, "Where's Mona?"

She pulls away, and I notice that her face has turned ashen. "She was called down to the precinct. That's why we're back early."

I can hardly hear her over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. "What? Why?"

"Well," my mother says slowly. She grabs a spatula and picks a piece of bacon off of the pan, letting it fall onto a plate. Her hand is shaking. "The police have a few questions. Specifically about her faking her death."

I shake my head, unable to believe this. "Seriously? _That's_ what they care about?"

"There was an investigation, sweetie," my mother says, trying to hand me a plate of food, but I hold out my hands in protest, stepping away. I don't think I could eat right now. In fact, I feel like I might be sick. "A lot of tax dollars went into trying to solve her murder. They're not very happy."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I mutter, but I no longer have the energy to argue. I stoop down to pick my keys up off of the floor.

My mom glances at me nervously, her eyes sweeping up and down my outfit. "Where are you…you're not going back to school today, are you?"

Great. Out of all the subject changes, she picks the thing I least want to talk about. Now my stomach is really churning. "I don't know," I say quietly, pressing a hand to it. "Right now I'm gonna go to the Brew, grab a coffee. Maybe I'll make it a half day."

"Viola, if you're not ready for this – "

"I think I am," I muse, to myself just as much as to her. "I want my life to start getting back to normal." _That won't happen until "A" is caught,_ a little voice in the back of my head taunts. I resist the urge to smack myself.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" my mom asks, standing up from the table, where she has just fixed a plate for herself.

I glance at her still-trembling hands and shake my head. "Mom, I don't think that's the best idea. I'll be fine."

"Text me when you get there," she insists, and I turn away before I roll my eyes. Even so, her protectiveness is kind of sweet. And understandable, I realize. She thought I was dead for two months.

Tears rush to my eyes and I fling my arms around my mother, holding back tears. "I will. I love you, Mom."

She lets out a choked sob and hugs me back, tightly. "I love you too, honey."

…

I walk into the Brew ten minutes later, inhaling the smell of coffee and smiling. I haven't been in here since I got back. The familiarity of the coffee shop is already starting to calm my stomach. Maybe I really will be able to make it to school later today.

I'm just figuring out what kind of latte I want to order when my attention is caught by a burst of shouting.

Whoa. I glance around, caught off guard. Generally when something out of the ordinary happens, it involves someone I know, so I'm unsurprised when I peer around the corner and spot Mona and Hanna facing some red-haired girl. My joy at seeing my sister for the first time in over a week quickly dissipates when I see the look on her face.

Curious and a little alarmed, I step closer just in time to hear the red-haired girl, who is wearing glasses and looks extremely angry, raise her voice, practically screaming out, "I actually saw you as the victim. You, you conniving little _bitch!_ "

"Whoa!" I yell out at the same time as Hanna, who gives a start and looks over at me. Feeling a rush of anger toward this complete stranger, I rush over, stepping between her and Mona, mostly because I am getting the feeling that someone is about to be punched. "Excuse me," I say, letting out a surprised laugh, "I'm sorry, who the _hell_ are you?"

The girl looks me up and down and I get the strange feeling that she knows who I am. Creepy. "The girl who your lovely sister completely screwed over," she snaps, her voice practically a snarl, and I step back, winding my arm through Mona's and wondering briefly if I'm the one who's going to get punched.

"Viola, this is Lesli," my sister says, her voice shaking.

 _Lesli._ The name rings a bell, and I suddenly realize why. This is her friend with mysterious origins, the one I was supposed to meet on Thanksgiving before the world completely turned on its head.

Funny. I never pegged her as a complete psychopath. Or a redhead.

I'm so furious that it takes me a moment to collect my thoughts. "Look, I don't know what your deal is and I honestly don't care. You need to lay off."

"This is her first day back," Hanna adds, and I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one who's angry. I wish I had walked in two minutes sooner. Then maybe I'd have a clue as to what is going on.

"Sorry," Lesli snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I forgot the champagne."

I roll my eyes so hard that my vision blurs for a second. "Get a grip, Lesli," Hanna says angrily, her eyes narrowed. "Mona never made up that plan to hurt you."

"Really?" Lesli barks out a laugh. She's beginning to sound a little unhinged. "You think I actually wanted perjury on my resume?"

"I don't know what that means, but I really don't like your tone," Hanna says.

Lesli takes a step forward, her face reddening. "Who gives a crap what you like, you bag of hair!"

If I was not so furious, I probably would have broken into hysterical laughter over what is by far the dumbest insult I have ever heard in my life. Instead I raise my voice, but not quite to the level of her screeching, and say, "No one forced you to come testify, Lesli. You put your ass on the line all by yourself."

"Guys, stop," Mona begs, grabbing my hand. "Lesli, I'm sorry about all this, I swear. I'll call you later – "

"Don't," Lesli says, her voice suddenly low. Somehow, this is scarier than when she was shouting. "If you ever try and reach out to me or mention my name to anyone ever again, you will live to regret it." Her eyes narrow behind her thick black glasses. "I believe in payback, too."

"Okay, that's it." I have never wanted to punch someone as much as I do right now. I yank my hands out of my sister's grasp and take a step toward Lesli, not sure what I'm about to do but knowing that it's not going to be pretty. "I'm – "

"Viola!" Mona grabs my arms, pulling me back. Immediately, Lesli shoots us all one last nasty glare and shoves past us, her shoulder knocking into Hanna's as she strides out of the Brew.

We stare after her and I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart finally slow down. "Oh my god," I mutter. "What the hell?"

"What a psycho," Hanna says, shaking her head in disgust. "How could she say that to you?"

"Where did you _meet_ that girl?" I ask in horror. "The straightjacket ward in Radley?"

Mona is staring at the ground, looking completely shaken. "Do you think she's going to – "

"She's not going to do anything," I interrupt, impressed that my voice isn't even trembling as I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "She's just nuts." I hesitate, thinking about the look on Lesli's face when she was screaming at us, and add quietly, "But, um, let's remember to lock the front door tonight anyway."

Hanna gives an exaggerated shiver, like she's trying to rid herself of what just happened. "I'm going to be late for school." She glances over at me. "Aren't you coming back today?"

All thoughts of going to school have completely left my head. All I want to do is go home, lock myself in my room, and not talk to anyone else for the rest of the day. My heart is still pounding.

But instead, I shake my head and pull out my car keys. "No. Maybe tomorrow." I look over at my sister, jangling the keys. "Come on, I'll take you to the police station."

"You don't have to do that," Mona says, following me out of the Brew and waving goodbye to Hanna, who sets off toward her car. "You should go to school."

Several boys who must be sophomores, at the oldest, walk past on their way into the Brew. They are gaping openly at us. I shudder, glaring at them. I am _really_ not in the mood for this. "Yeah, no, actually…I think the precinct sounds more appealing than school right now."

…

I'm sitting in a chair in my room, my knees pulled up to my chest as I flip through a magazine, when I hear a creak from the hallway.

My head snaps up quickly and the magazine slaps closed. _You're being crazy,_ I tell myself, rolling my eyes at my own panic, even though my heart is still pounding. _That was probably just Mom or Dad going to bed._

This is getting out of hand, this whole being jumpy over every sound thing. I shouldn't be living in fear in my own house. But I can't help being jittery. Over those horrible two months, I became accustomed to listening hard for any sound, any indication that "A" was coming or that something was about to happen. I had to be prepared for anything. And I guess that's how my fight or flight reaction is still operating.

I sigh and lean back against the chair, reaching over to pull the curtains closed, hiding the dark sky. Then I flip back open the magazine and force myself to calm down.

And then the door to my room begins to open.

I'm reminded instantly of being in that tiny Radley recreation room in the dollhouse, of that first terrifying moment when the metal door creaked open. I drop the magazine to the floor and pull my knees tight against my chest, looking around wildly for anything I could potentially use as a weapon. If I screamed, could my dad hear me from the kitchen?

And then the door swings the rest of the way open and a small figure steps into my room.

"Oh my god, Mona, what the hell?" I gasp, nearly collapsing right out of the chair in relief. My hand flies to my pounding heart. "Do you have any idea how badly you just scared me?"

"Sorry," my sister says, shutting the door and pulling off her sweatshirt. My eyes widen at the sight of her black sweater and pants. _Crap._ "I need to use your window."

"What?" I scramble to my feet and cross my arms, moving to stand in front of said window. "You – you're sneaking out?"

"Don't worry about it," Mona says, trying to push me aside, and I notice that for the first time all day, her voice sounds steady. "I'm not doing anything dangerous. I'll be back in half an hour."

I doubt all of that and grab her arm, suddenly very glad that I'm nearly a head taller than she is. "I'm getting the feeling your whole scared act was just that," I snap.

"I _am_ scared," she insists, wrenching her arm out of my grip and pulling the blinds away from the window. "That's the whole reason why I'm doing this."

All of my annoyance melts into concern. "Can you at least tell me where you're going? This is freaking me out." I think back to our days on the "A" team and shiver. "You're not…"

"This has nothing to do with 'A,'" Mona says quickly, once again reading my mind. "But I can't tell you anything else. I promised."

I nod and walk over to my closet, taking out a black cardigan and pulling it on. "Okay, fine. Then I'll come with you and see for myself."

"No, Viola," she protests, but I'm already halfway out the window, straining my arm until I make contact with the thick tree branch that has helped me sneak out more times than I would like to admit. "I need to do this alone."

I'm barely listening, trying to swing one leg out of the window and onto the branch. "No one has to know," I gasp. "I'm not letting you go off on some secret mission alone, not with Charles still lurking around. That's just asking to get kidnapped again."

"It's not like I'm some kind of amateur at this," Mona mutters, but follows me out the window without further protest. I smirk to myself as I jump to the ground and head for the car.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I call, shooting a nervous glance at the house just in time to see the kitchen light click off. My parents must be going to bed. Good.

She jumps into the car beside me. "Radley."

…

Twenty minutes later, I wish I had not insisted on coming.

"This is so creepy," I hiss, peering into another room at the end of the hallway, which is filled with files, stacked from floor to ceiling. Radley is even creepier at night, in the dark. Or, I guess, what used to be Radley. Since it was sold and closed down sometime when I was trapped underground, I guess it's not really a sanitarium anymore. All of the patients have been moved out. But their records have not. "Okay, are you going to tell me whose file we're looking for?"

Mona has already pulled down a box and is beginning to rifle through it. She doesn't look at me, but even in the dark I can see her face go pale. "Lesli's."

"What?" My jaw drops open. I wonder briefly if I heard incorrectly. "Lesli Stone was a patient at Radley?"

"You were right, partially," my sister says, moving on to another box of records. "But I don't think this place ever had a 'straightjacket ward.'"

"Oh my god," I mutter, shaking my head. "I can't believe you met her here. Although," I add thoughtfully, thinking back to her behavior yesterday and getting angry all over again, "I guess it makes sense. That girl has a serious rage problem." I wrap my arms around myself. It's chilly in here – they most likely shut off the utilities when the place closed down – but that's not the only reason why I shiver.

"Since you insisted on coming along, can you at least help me look?" Mona asks, handing me a stack of files.

I lean against the damp wall and shift through them half-heartedly. Something is still bothering me. "Okay, wait," I say, looking up and raising my eyebrows. "Can you explain why, exactly, you are so willing to help a girl who, if I'm not mistaken, recently called you a 'conniving little bitch'?"

There is a long pause. "I want to make it up to her," she says finally, with obvious reluctance. "I really did hurt her."

"You didn't do anything wrong," I protest, fibbing only a little. "If I were you, I wouldn't be jumping through any hoops for that psycho."

"Trust me, you would," Mona says darkly, still not meeting my eyes. "You don't know Lesli like I do."

"Thank god," I mumble, but her words have made me a little on-edge. What is this girl actually capable of? Because it suddenly seems like she's more unhinged than I thought after our confrontation in the Brew.

Suddenly nervous, I go back to rifling through stacks of papers, having to hold them practically right up to my face to read the names in the darkness. "God, this place is a mess," I hiss after several minutes, dropping a bunch of files back into a box and grabbing a new one. I hold back a yelp when I nearly step in a puddle.

Just then, a scream echoes through the hallway. We both gasp, whirling around. "Okay, what the hell was that?" I say in terror, my heart seizing in my chest. Obviously, there's someone else in here. A girl, judging by that scream. And there was something familiar about it, I realize.

Mona looks at me nervously. "I have no idea."

I grimace and shiver, turning frantically to another box. "Let's just hurry up and find this stupid thing so we can get out of here," I say, standing on tiptoe to pull it off of the top of a cabinet. But my hand slips, and the box is knocked to the ground. With a nasty thud, it crashes to the ground, sending papers everywhere.

"Shh!" Mona whispers, but without her usual amount of intensity. And a moment later she backs into a file cabinet and sends it toppling over. It hits the wall with a resounding _bang._

I gape at her, alarmed. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this," I whisper-shout, just as she pulls a file out of a stack with a shaky smile.

"I got it. Let's – "

Then the door flies open, and Spencer and Hanna stand staring at us.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed; don't forget to review! Next chapter picks up right where this one left off.**


	63. Chapter 63

**So sorry that it has taken me so long to update! I was in California over the weekend and just got back late last night. Thanks to RHatch89, BadSmiles, nick2951, and Diane61 for the reviews, and to tret190 for following. I appreciate the feedback as always, and please review and let me know what you think of this chapter!**

Chapter 63

I think it really says a lot about what my life has become that I'm not even surprised to see Spencer and Hanna staring right at us. I don't even question why they're in Radley. Of course they are. Half the town could be in Radley right now and I wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

"What the hell?" Hanna bursts out.

Spencer's eyes have narrowed angrily. "You guys were down here the whole time?"

"Was that you?" Hanna adds, obviously referring to the crashing noises we had been making just a few moments ago.

"Answer us!" Spencer says loudly, and her voice echoes around the small room.

"Just let us go," Mona says. Her voice is wavering again. "Please. I'll explain later."

"No," Spencer says furiously. "You're gonna explain right now."

"Why were you following us?" Hanna demands, folding her arms across her chest.

Without pausing to wonder if this is a bad idea, I reach over and snatch the file out of my sister's hands. "We came to get this," I announce, waving it in the air.

"Viola!" Mona snaps, sounding horrified, but Spencer has already grabbed it right out of my hands. "Just give it back to me, okay? This doesn't have anything to do with you guys."

"Why were you stealing your file?" Hanna asks angrily, but I roll my eyes, holding out my hand just as Spencer's beginning to open it.

"Don't bother. It's not hers. It's Lesli's."

Two pairs of wide eyes meet mine. "Wait, what?" Hanna cries. "Lesli was a patient here, too?"

"Yes," Mona says, glancing at me. "And she doesn't want it to go public."

Spencer looks shocked, but Hanna looks like everything suddenly makes a lot more sense. "Come on," Spencer says to Hanna, pulling her purse off of her shoulder and opening it. "Let's get out of here."

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrows, ready to get out of here myself, but Mona has gone pale. "You can't take that!"

Hanna rolls her eyes as Spencer shoves the file into her purse, snapping it closed. "I think there's more to this story than either of you are telling us," Spencer says abruptly.

"Your friend's just gonna have to live with everyone knowing just what a psycho she really is," Hanna adds, and with that, they're gone, striding out of the room.

I fully expect my sister to run after them, and even put my hand on her arm just in case, but she stares at the ground for a full two minutes before finally grabbing my wrist and pulling me down the hallway. " 'We came to get this,'" she mocks, looking furious. "Congratulations, Viola. You just screwed us both over."

"What are you talking about?" I say, stumbling in my haste to keep up.

"When Lesli finds out that I didn't get her file…" she says, and fear has replaced the anger in her voice. "I don't know what she's going to do."

I roll my eyes and scoff, mostly to hide the fact that I'm on the verge of panic as well, "Oh, please. What's she gonna do? Call you another stupid name?"

We reach the car, thankfully without running into anyone else, but before I can even pull out my keys, Mona grabs my arm, looking at me intently. "You of all people should know not to underestimate someone," she says quietly, then jumps into the car.

I lean my hand against the bumper for a moment, thinking about that. It _does_ seem like we would all have a lot less problems if we automatically pegged everyone we meet for a murderer or psycho.

…

The lights are on in the living room when we pull into the driveway.

I glance at the clock on the dash, and then meet my sister's eyes for a long, terrified moment. It's almost one in the morning.

Crap.

"Well," I breathe, but I can't figure out a positive way to finish that, so I push open the door and get out of the car.

"Maybe it's just Dad," Mona says nervously as we walk very slowly up to the front door.

"Maybe," I say enthusiastically. It's probably because he's rarely home, but our dad never really yells at us. I have a feeling that this might be an exception to that rule.

I take a deep breath and push open the door, hoping for the best.

" _Girls._ "

Our mother is standing right in front of us. Her arms are folded across her chest and her brow is furrowed in anger, but her face is pale, almost green. I realize with an awful jolt of my stomach how freaked out she must have been.

"Mom, we were just – " Mona begins calmly, but our mother cuts her off.

"Do you have _any idea_ how worried we've been?" she demands, and I glance into the living room. My dad is sitting on the couch, his hands clasped together over his knees. He's watching us with an expression that is much worse than anger.

Disappointment.

"How did you know we were gone?" I ask shakily, putting my hands behind my back so she can't see them trembling.

"I've been checking in on you both every night," my mother snaps, pressing her lips together thinly. "Just to make sure you're _still alright._ Imagine my surprise when I poked my head into your bedrooms to find not one, but _both_ of my daughters gone."

My stomach sinks lower with every word. I've done some pretty awful things over the past year, but I don't think I've ever been more ashamed than I am right now.

I open my mouth to tell her that, but my mother keeps talking. "You don't know what it was like," she whispers, pressing a hand to her temple. "I went from having two wonderful daughters to zero in less than three months. When your rooms were empty tonight, I thought…"

Mona seizes my hand tightly. I squeeze back and look over at my dad. He's still silent, but he's not even looking at us anymore. He's staring down at the carpet.

"I'm sorry," I burst out, my voice hoarse. "Really."

"It was a mistake," Mona adds, sounding near tears as well. "We'll never – "

My mother holds up a hand, closing her eyes. "We'll talk about this tomorrow. Both of you, go to your rooms. Now."

Side-by-side, we slink guiltily up the stairs. I still feel like I'm going to throw up, but I don't dare even stop at the bathroom. "That was so not worth it," I mutter, pressing a hand to my stomach and stopping outside of my room. "God. Do you feel like you're gonna be sick?"

"I don't think I'm gonna be getting much sleep tonight," Mona replies with a shaky laugh.

I can't even muster up a smile, so I just shiver and walk into my room, closing the door behind me. I have sent threatening messages, vandalized people's houses, and participated in the torment of four girls, but I have never felt this guilty in my life.

I flop down on my bed without bothering to change clothes, staring up at the ceiling. My poor parents. How could we have been so stupid? I glance over at the still-open window with a grimace.

My phone chimes and I reach for it immediately, sure that any minute now my mother is going to burst in here and make me turn it over. I definitely won't be keeping my cell phone privileges after that stunt.

So I look at the text while I still have the chance. It's from Hanna. _We read the file and we need to talk. Spencer's house, first thing tomorrow morning._

I wince. Out of all things that aren't going to happen tomorrow, either of us going anywhere makes the top of the list. _I don't think so,_ I text back with a sigh. _We got busted._

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the phone, and I finally give in to my curiosity and send another message. _I didn't read the file. What did it say?_

There is such a long silence that I finally accept the fact that she's not going to tell me. It seems like any trust those girls placed in me is gone after tonight. Strangely, I don't really care. Everything seems so mundane after the dollhouse.

But after nearly ten minutes, a response comes, and shocks me more than I thought possible after tonight.

 _Lesli was Bethany Young's roommate._

 _..._

 **Thanks for reading, and once again, please let me know what you think! Next, the girls inform Viola of an unsetting discovery, and an unexpected visitor drops by.**


	64. Chapter 64

**Thanks to nick2951, potterjay92, and RHatch89 for reviewing! I appreciate the feedback as always. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 64

I spend the entirety of the next twenty-four hours in my room.

Well, I guess that's not true. I do leave about ten times, either to run to the bathroom or to sneak downstairs to get food. But other than that, I haven't gone anywhere.

It's not that I think my parents are going to assault me or anything if I leave my room. I was never even officially grounded. But I'm too ashamed to even look them in the eye. I thought that after a few hours, the guilt would begin to subside. But it hasn't. If anything, it's gotten worse.

As far as I know, Mona feels the same way, although I don't know much. We've talked a few times through the vent that connects our rooms, but it's so hard to hear that it's not really worth it. For all I know, she's carrying on with life like normal. I wish I could.

It's not until the morning of my second day in my room that something out of the ordinary happens. I hear voices coming from my sister's room, voices that don't sound like my parents. Voices that sound familiar.

 _What are they doing here?_ I wonder, quietly opening my door and slipping into the hallway. Mona's door is closed, but even so, I can hear the voices of Spencer, Aria, and Hanna pretty clearly.

Curious, I walk over and silently press my ear to the door just in time to hear Hanna burst out, her voice muffled, "Tell her to get her ass over here or I'll show her a confrontation!"

I reel away from the door in surprise. Who the heck are they talking about? I suddenly feel like the day and a half that I've spent in my room was more like a lifetime. Not wanting to barge in and interrupt, I lean back against the door just in time to hear Mona say insistently, "I swear, Lesli doesn't know anything else. If she did, she would tell me, and I would tell you."

Lesli. I roll my eyes, feeling angry all over again. Less than a week ago, I didn't even know what that bitch looked like. And now she has managed to throw everyone's lives even more off-kilter than usual.

As I listen half-heartedly as they argue, I quickly put the pieces together in my mind. Obviously some events have occurred over the past few days that have led the girls to believe that Lesli is "A," or knows something about "A," or something. Their theories change so often that it's hard to keep up.

But clearly their evidence isn't good enough for Mona to sell Lesli out, as much as I kind of wish she would. I highly doubt that Lesli is Charles, but that girl is clearly whacked in more ways than one.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I completely stop listening, even though my ear is still pressed against the door. Footsteps begin moving closer, and I leap away, practically tumbling into my room just as I hear three sets of footsteps stomp angrily down the stairs.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through me, and before I even know what I'm doing, I'm pushing back out of my room and running after them. I yank open the front door just in time to catch Aria, Hanna, and Spencer already halfway down the walkway. "Guys!"

They turn as I step outside, easing the door closed behind me. It's weird seeing three instead of four, and I wonder briefly where Emily is. "Viola?" Hanna asks, surprise beginning to replace some of the irritation on her face.

"What's going on?" Spencer asks suspiciously, folding her arms over her chest.

"I heard you guys talking," I gasp, still trying to catch my breath. "About Lesli. You think she's Charles?"

They exchange a glance. "Viola, she was Bethany's roommate at Radley," Spencer says slowly. "She obviously knows more than we think, especially about the night that both Charles _and_ Bethany escaped."

Aria opens her mouth, but I cut her off. This is completely new information to me. "Wait, wait a minute. What do you mean, they both escaped? Who told you that?"

Once again, all three girls look at each other. I'm just starting to get exasperated when Aria finally says, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes, "Your sister."

I take a step back. They're all watching me, like they're expecting me to blow up or be totally shocked. But I'm really not even the slightest bit surprised. I've gotten used to the fact that Mona knows everything. This isn't really that difficult to digest.

"So then why doesn't she want you guys to talk to Lesli?" I ask, glancing nervously back at the house. Any moment now my mother is probably going to burst out here and drag me back inside by my hair.

Spencer looks disgruntled. Once again, I get the impression that she hasn't slept. "Apparently," she says, rolling her eyes sarcastically, "Lesli doesn't think talking to us would be 'good for her stability.'"

I feel my mouth drop open. The image of that girl yelling in my face comes rushing back to me. "Stability? That's a joke."

Hanna snorts in agreement, but then her eyes light up like she's come to a realization. "Wait a minute. You know where she lives, right?"

"Um, I might have her address somewhere," I stammer, bewildered. "Why?"

"You can take us there!" Hanna grins, invigorated. "Come on, go get her address and then we can – "

"Hold it," I say, holding up a hand, because Spencer and Aria are starting to look excited, too. "I never said I'd take you guys to her house."

Spencer's face reddens a bit. "Of course you will," she says sharply, her gaze intense. "Because you want to end this just as badly as we do."

I turn away slightly, rocking back on my heels uncomfortably. "Of course I do," I mutter, trying to organize my thoughts. "But if Mona doesn't think it's a good idea, then I think you guys had better listen. She knows Lesli better than any of us."

Spencer looks a little like she wants to murder me. Aria glances at her and seems to notice this, too, as she steps forward, between us, and says in a low voice, "Viola, this is not a game anymore. That girl could be the person who's been tormenting us for _years._ "

I shake my head, crossing my arms. "You really think Lesli Stone is Charles?"

Spencer steps around Aria, but her face is calmer. "No. She can't be…Charles is dead. For sure. We found his autopsy report at Radley."

"Among other things," Hanna adds with a disgusted shudder.

This doesn't make any sense. I can't believe that after so long, these girls still don't seem to understand how "A" works. "And did you guys even consider the possibility that 'A' made up that report himself?"

"That's not all," Spencer cuts me off quickly, and the look on all of their faces gives me a twinge of fear. "Charles has a grave. A real one."

"He's really dead," I murmur, rubbing the goose bumps that have risen on my arms. "So we're back to square one. We have _nothing._ "

"Exactly," Aria says insistently, grabbing my arm. "So come on, we need your help."

I yank my arm out of her grip, shaking my head again. "No way. Mona is my sister. I'm not going to purposefully go and do something that she's not comfortable with. If she says that Lesli's not 'A,' then she's not 'A,' and you guys need to get over it." I narrow my eyes at the looks of surprise on their faces and say, turning back to my house, "Is that all?"

I'm fully expecting no response, and practically jump out of my skin when Spencer suddenly grabs me by the wrist. "No. There is something else. Turn around."

This strikes me as very suspicious, and I immediately feel a rush of fear, which I try to shake off. This is insane. They're not going to _do_ anything to me. I've just been jumpy and paranoid ever since I escaped from that place.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around myself and turn around, giving her an inquisitive look. After a moment, I feel her fingers pressing against the back of my neck, and I wince, my shoulders shooting up, not just from surprise, but from a sudden burst of pain.

"Ow!" I yelp when she pushes harder, whirling around. "What the heck are you – " But the words freeze on my tongue when I reach back to rub the spot that's now sore.

My fingers bump against something small and hard, right beneath the skin on the back of my neck. It's protruding just a bit, but I gasp. I can't believe that I didn't notice that before. "Oh my god, what is that?"

"It's a tracking device," Spencer explains, pressing her hand to the back of her own neck. "Remember that day we woke up in that morgue-like room, with major headaches?"

" 'A' _chipped_ us?" I burst out squeakily, black spots dancing in front of my vision. I feel like I'm going to pass out. "Oh my god, what are we gonna do?"

"We have a plan," Hanna says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the sidewalk. "But you have to come with us."

I have no idea what's going on or if I should trust them, but none of that even occurs to me as I jump into the back of Spencer's SUV and try to buckle the seatbelt with my shaking hands. The only thing on my mind is that stupid chip, and getting it out of me.

…

I wake up several hours later to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I heave myself off of my bed, so nauseous that I can barely see straight. I can feel my pulse in the back of my neck, and I raise my hand to make sure that the bandage is still there and not soaked with blood or anything.

It's been three hours since I allowed Spencer and Hanna to pretty much operate on my neck in order to get that tracking chip out. At the time, I was so scared that I laid down on the bed and told them to hurry up without a second thought.

But once it took thirty minutes for the bleeding to stop, and once I passed out for several minutes, I started to have second thoughts. I understand why we couldn't have gone to the hospital. On the other hand, watching YouTube videos probably wasn't the best way to learn how to do surgery.

Feeling a little less light-headed now, I stumble down the stairs and take a moment to make myself presentable before opening the door.

Mike stands in front of me, his hands shoved in his pockets and a large Tupperware box beside him. "Mike?" I say, unable to keep from grinning. I haven't seen him since before the dollhouse.

He grins as well, looking relieved. "Viola, hey," he says, and I step forward to hug him. He was my best friend in the weeks before I was kidnapped, and I realize now how much I missed him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask once I pull away, trying to ignore the irritating sting of the stitches on my neck. I casually push back my hair, making sure it's covered.

He turns bright red, glancing down at the box beside him. "I – um – is…is Mona here?"

I smile. "No. She went out with our mom. She'll be back soon, why don't you come in and – "

"No," he says loudly, taking a step back. "Don't worry about it."

"Mike," I interrupt, walking outside and closing the door behind me. "What's going on? You look freaked."

There was a time when he would have refused to tell me, when I would have had to poke and prod and ask relentlessly until he fessed up, because that's what boys are like. But apparently we've all matured over the past few months, because he sighs, sits down on the porch swing, and says, with his head in his hands, "I haven't talked to her since you guys got back."

It takes a minute for that to process. We've been back for nearly two weeks now. "What? Seriously? Mona hasn't tried to call you or anything this whole time?"

Mike shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. " _I've_ tried to call _her,_ " he mutters. "She hasn't answered any of my calls or texts, anything. I came over a few days ago but your mom wouldn't let me see her."

I flinch, fiddling with my hands. "Things have been a little crazy," I admit with reluctance, thinking again of what I went through a few hours ago and suppressing the urge to throw up. "And she's been having a really rough time. Don't take it personally."

"It's hard not to," he says, then snorts and adds sarcastically, "I mean, it's not like I thought she was dead for months or anything."

I flinch involuntarily. "Come on," I say lightly, sitting down beside him on the swing. "It's nothing against you. We've all just been trying to handle everything as best we can." Glancing around, I nod down at the box and add jokingly, "So what, you thought you'd try and win her over with…Tupperware?"

He finally laughs, although it's harsh, and stands, walking over to the box. "No." He lifts the lid and I feel my eyes widen. Instinctively, I pull my knees up to my chest.

Half a dozen pairs of eyes stare blankly up at me. "What the heck?" I say in alarm, narrowing my own eyes at the porcelain dolls that remind me a little too much of what I've been through. "I don't…"

"They were Aria's," he explains hastily, seeming to sense my discomfort and sticking the lid back on, the dolls disappearing from view. "She said she's kind of over dolls."

"Yeah, I know how she feels," I mutter, rolling my eyes and not even trying to suppress the shiver that passes through me.

"This was her idea," Mike says quickly, almost defensively. "Giving them to Mona. But I don't know, maybe – "

"It's fine," I blurt out, jumping up before he can change his mind. "It's actually really sweet. I think she'll appreciate it. Here." Smiling, I walk over and pull open the door. "Hurry up, would you? Before bugs get in."

...

 **Hope you enjoyed! Please review! Next, a favor is asked of Viola from a surprising source.**


	65. Chapter 65

**Thank you to RHatch89, potterjay92, nick2951, Pinkpoodle8, and BadSmiles for the reviews! With only five or so chapters left, your feedback means more to me than ever! Please let me know what you think of what happens next.**

Chapter 65

I was never really a fan of listening to loud music. I guess I always just preferred keeping my ear drums intact. But ever since I escaped from that place, I feel like I spend half my time with my ear buds in, the music on my phone cranked to top volume.

That's what I'm doing an hour after I let Mike in. I have no idea what's going on in the room next to mine, how Mona handled seeing him, or if he's even still here. I can't hear anything over the blasting in my ears.

I smack closed a magazine and am just moving on to another one, snapping the gum in my mouth, when the song I'm listening to dims and such a loud chiming fills my ears that I nearly fall off the bed.

Swearing – probably pretty loudly, too, but I can't really hear – I yank out my ear buds, my heart speeding up. My mind immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion, that this is some message from "A," some new way of tormenting me, when the chiming resumes, and I realize that I'm stupid.

It's my phone ringing. Someone's calling.

Rubbing my ringing ears, I turn the volume on my cell down. Before I can check the ID, the ringing stops. I'm a little curious, but not curious enough to check and see who it was. I'm just going back to my magazine when it chimes again.

My eyebrows shoot up and I grab my phone. No one has been this urgent to get ahold of me in a long time. Suddenly wary, I look down at the name on the screen, and my surprise grows. Nervously, I hold it to my ear.

"Alison?"

"Viola," she replies, sounding intense, and I blink, alarmed. "Finally."

I shake my head, completely dumbfounded. "Um, what's – what's going on?" This can't have anything to do with Charles, can it? If any new discoveries were made, Alison would probably be the last to call me.

"I need your help," she says, and I hear the shakiness in her voice. "Can you give me a ride?"

This is bewildering. "Why me?" I stammer, swinging my legs off of the bed and standing up, wrapping my free arm around myself.

"I've been calling everyone," she explains, speaking quickly. Her voice is slightly muffled, like she's talking under her breath. "No one's picking up."

I'm unsurprised to find out that I am her last resort. But I'm still suspicious. Alison hasn't really given me any good reason to trust her over the past few years. And this plea for help is coming completely out of nowhere. "And where, exactly, do you need me to take you?"

"I don't know," Alison admits after a hesitation. "I just have the address. But this is important, Viola. I think Charles is going to do something to Jason."

My eyes nearly pop right out of my head. "What? Wait, wait, _what_ is going on?"

"Charles is coming home for his birthday," she says nervously. "I can't explain everything right now. There's not time. I'm staying in that hotel, the one right outside of town. Can you please come pick me up?"

My mind is spinning so badly that I barely understand what I'm agreeing to, but the words come spilling out anyway. "Sure. Yeah. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thank you," Alison breathes, and the line clicks off.

My arm falls to my side, and I blink quickly. It's Charles' birthday? Do psychopaths even _have_ birthdays? And once again, I've just agreed to run right into what is potentially a dangerous situation.

It's like I'm asking to get kidnapped again.

Now that my head has cleared a bit, it occurs to me that this is incredibly stupid. I have no idea where I'm going to be driving to. Even Alison doesn't seem have a clue. And where are Spencer, and Aria, and the others? Why couldn't they pick her up?

I'm getting the feeling that I'm missing a lot of information here.

The term "butterflies in your stomach" doesn't even apply here. I feel like my stomach is being attacked by a swarm of bees. Shakily, I grab my car keys and purse and rush out of my room.

I'm going to help Alison. But I am _not_ going alone.

I practically slide down the hallway, grabbing onto the doorframe of the next room, bursting right in on Mike and Mona. He's sitting in a chair, she's sitting in his lap, and they're kissing, completely unaware that I've even entered the room, let alone that I'm on the verge of panic.

Slightly mortified, I leap back, clear my throat, and say, "Hey."

They both jump horribly, turning to look at me. Mike turns several shades of bright red. My sister looks like she wouldn't mind if I fell out of an open window. "What are you _doing,_ Viola?"

"I need your help with something," I say, widening my eyes to try and communicate the fact that this is urgent.

Mona hops up and brushes back her hair, looking irritated. "And it couldn't wait?"

"No," I say earnestly, glancing down at my cell phone, which is still clutched in my hand. "It's important."

Maybe it's the phone, or the look on my face, but she seems to understand, glancing uncertainly at Mike. He jumps up, still clearly flustered. "Everything okay?"

" _Yes,_ " I blurt out, too quickly and too loudly. The last thing I want is to involve him in this. He's one of the only people left who's not completely wrapped up in this whole situation, and I want to keep it that way. "Fine, I just…"

"No problem," Mike says, holding out his hands in surrender. "I'll talk to you later." He leans down, kisses my sister briefly, and squeezes my arm on his way out.

She shuts the door behind him and folds her arms. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," I confirm, and toss her a set of car keys. "Come on. We have to go pick up Alison."

"What do you mean," Mona demands, but the irritation in her voice has changed to incredulity, "we have to go pick up Alison?"

I hop back and forth, growing impatient. "Check your phone lately?"

She grabs it off of the desk and frowns suspiciously. "Why would Alison be calling either one of us for help?"

I wave my hand dismissively. I want to get on the road – now. Not because I necessarily want to dedicate my night to helping Alison, but because I feel closer to answers than I have in a long time. "Last resort," I say quickly, pulling open the door. "Now come on. This has to do with Charles."

…

"Okay, you're gonna make a right at the next stop sign." I lean forward from the backseat, my phone clutched tightly in my hands. My nerves feel almost completely shot, but a lot of that probably has to do with the fact that I'm sitting in a car with two of the most unpredictable people I know.

"Thank you for coming," Alison says suddenly, twisting around in the passenger seat to glance back at me. "You were the only one who answered my call."

"I know," I say awkwardly, shifting a little in my seat.

"Did you tell Mike where you were going?" Ali asks suddenly, and I notice guilt flashing across her face. I blink in surprise. _Alison_ feeling bad for someone other than herself? This is a side of her that I'm going to have to get used to.

Mona shakes her head silently, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. I jump in hastily, "No one knows. Not even our parents. So this better not be anything dangerous."

"How did you get out of there?" my sister asks, glancing over at Alison.

"Yeah, I thought your dad had you on, like, lockdown," I add, consulting the directions on my phone. "Keep going straight. Next left isn't for a while."

Alison shrugs, fidgeting a little. "Sleeping pills." I press my lips together to stifle a hysterical laugh. Sleeping pills. Honestly. "I still couldn't find my dad's car keys, though."

"I'm just glad I could help," Mona says, sounding sincere. "I know I owe you. More than just a car ride."

The stifling silence that follows this is quite unsettling. I wince and stare determinedly ahead, glad for the distraction when Alison pulls out her phone and lifts it to her ear. "Who are you calling?" I demand, grateful for the excuse to talk. "Jason?" She's been trying to get a hold of him since we picked her up at the hotel, but he hasn't answered. No one has.

"No," Alison says quietly. "No one's answering their phones. There's no point."

"Then who are you calling?" my sister asks sharply.

Alison pauses, taking in a breath, and I know I'm not going to like the answer even before she speaks. "911."

"Alison, you can't do that," Mona says in alarm, just as I let out a yelp and nearly drop my phone.

"What the hell?" I gasp, gaping at her even though she's not looking at me, keeping the phone firmly pressed to her ear. "What do you think that's possibly going to – _turn left!_ " I scream, because I've only just glanced at my own cell and realized that the street we're supposed to be turning onto is several feet away.

Mona turns the wheel so sharply that I fall against the side of the car, just as Alison speaks into her phone. "My name is Alison DiLaurentis." Her voice is shaky, but surprisingly calm. "My friends and family are in danger. I know who 'A' is. His name is Charles DiLaurentis, and he's my brother."

My heart feels like it's going to pound right out of my chest. As Alison gives off the address to the 911 operator, I exchange a look of panic with my sister through the rearview mirror.

"The police are going to the address I gave them," Alison announces in a small voice once she's off the phone. "They're going to take care of it."

"So we're not going," Mona says flatly. It's not a question.

"We're almost there!" I snap, furious. I did not come all this way, risk my parents' wavering trust, and devote my whole night to helping Alison, for this. "We can't go back now!"

"I'm afraid that Jason is in danger," Alison says shakily. "I don't want to think that Charles would hurt him, but…I can't know for sure. My friends might already be in trouble. I don't think it's a good idea for us to get in the middle of this, too."

" _Your_ friends?" I say angrily, dropping my phone onto the seat beside me and scowling at what I can see of Ali from the backseat. "Last time I checked, we were friends with them, too." I bite my tongue, holding back any mention of the tracking chip that was recently removed from my neck. I trust those girls enough to allow them to perform surgery on me. If you can't consider someone a friend after that…

"Less people are going to get hurt this way," Alison argues as Mona resigns, turning the car back in the way we came. "The police need to know what's going on. They need to know about Charles."

I raise my eyebrows, settling back against the seat and crossing my arms. "Fine, Ali. But the next time you're going to ask me to potentially risk my life for you, at least make up your mind first."

...

 **Next, prom night has arrived, and Viola is roped into the final plan to catch A, once and for all. But will someone from her past get in the way?**


	66. Chapter 66

**Thank you once again to potterjay92, RHatch89, BadSmiles, nick2951, and Pinkpoodle8 for reviewing. You guys are wonderful! We are down to the last five chapters, so please let me know what you think. Your feedback means the world to me.**

Chapter 66

I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, staring at my reflection and not really taking any of it in. I'm in complete disbelief – that I'm standing in my room holding my prom dress, that I'm even going to prom at all. It seems so boring, so… _normal,_ after everything I've been through.

But in a way, I'm thankful for it. I've only been going to school for a few days now, and it's been hard, to say the least. People have been staring more than ever, and I can officially say that besides my sister and the other girls, I have no friends left.

It's not really their fault, though. A lot of people have come up to me in the hallways, offering awkward apologies and sympathies. Macy even offered to sleep over. But it all seems so stupid now. I'm just trying to get through it, at this point. Nothing else matters as long as Charles is still out there. I'm only going to school so I can get my final report card and be one step closer to getting out of here.

But prom is a different story. It's one of the biggest events of the year, and a place where I can just dance and have fun without worrying. I'm going alone, not with a date, not with friends, nothing, and I'm actually looking forward to having one normal night.

Usually I would assume that something is going to mess with this. It seems like way too much to expect, one night free of "A." But prom is tomorrow night, and so far, so good. There has been no sign of Charles since he sabotaged Aria's exhibit at the art gallery last week, and to be honest, I don't really care. If "A" is going from murder to creepy pictures, life could be a lot worse.

And then Mona bursts into my room without knocking. "Have you heard?" she demands before I can even open my mouth to protest.

My stomach sinks. "Oh god. Heard what?"

"Alison, and Hanna, and the others…they've all been banned from the prom," she explains, her voice low. "The school thinks they're too much of a risk."

I raise my eyebrows, setting my dress down on my bed and folding my arms. "And _we're_ allowed to go?"

She shakes her head and walks over to examine my dress, lifting up the hem and smiling. "You're still going. Good."

Something in her tone is beginning to make me very nervous. "What do you mean, 'good'? What do you care if I go or not…are _you_ even going?"

"Of course I'm going," Mona says intently, pulling something small out of her pocket and closing it in her fist, blocking my view. "But not to get drunk on the punch."

I step closer, my stomach sinking even lower. "What's that…?"

Instead of answering, she smiles, and there's a gleam in her eye that I know well. "I have a feeling that Alison's not going to be able to stay away. Charles isn't going to miss this opportunity. So we need to make sure we're there, too."

My head is spinning. I have about a million questions, but none of this makes any sense, so I settle on, "What?"

"I've been tracking Alison's phone since she came back to Rosewood," my sister explains quickly. "She got a text from Charles, just a few hours ago."

I nod, beginning to fill in some of the information. "Telling Alison to come to the prom?"

"I haven't been able to get a lock on his location," Mona explains, nodding. "It's too remote. But if he's at the dance, I'll be able to figure out…"

"Where the texts are coming from," I cut in, starting to smile. "And if we find that out…"

"Then it'll lead us right to Charles," my sister confirms, grinning. She opens her hand to reveal a small earpiece. "But I need your help. I can't keep tabs on both Alison and Charles all night, especially with a hundred other people around."

I think back on all of the times we have been in a situation just like this one, where Mona has explained some crazy plan and asked for my help. In the past, I always hesitated, afraid, or flat out refused.

But this is different. This isn't crazy. This could actually _work._

My smile widens, and I reach out without hesitation, taking the earpiece and turning it over in my hand. "You don't have to ask me again. I'm in."

…

My stomach is in knots the following night as I pace back and forth around my living room. I rub my sweaty palms against my dress, grimacing. Nearly all of my enthusiasm about this plan has drained right out of me.

But at least I get to be alone for a few minutes before I have to plunge into the swarm of people at the prom. My parents aren't here. They'd had a date night planned for weeks, assuming that neither of us were going to the dance. Once they found out that wasn't the case, they tried to insist on staying home.

But I think they deserve at least one night of peace. Especially tonight.

I glance at the clock above the fireplace, fidgeting nervously with my hands. Mona left ten minutes ago, but she told me to wait until eight thirty before I leave the house, just in case Charles is already there, watching. This is only going to work if absolutely no one finds out what we're doing, "A" most of all.

And anyway, I really don't need to be at the prom until nine, at least. While my sister is going to be on the lookout for Charles, trying to track his location, I'm supposed to follow Alison, who, right now, should just be getting to the makeshift prom in Spencer's barn. We guessed it will take her about half an hour at the least to get away from the other girls and parents and make her way to the school.

The clock hits eight thirty and nerves erupt in my stomach. _I could always wait,_ I think anxiously. _There's no way Ali will be there yet. It would be a waste of time to go now._

But no. I close my eyes and try to stand taller, shaking my head at myself. This isn't the time to be afraid. We need to put an end to this. Tonight. And the only way to do that is to make sure that I don't screw anything up.

I grab my purse and tuck my phone inside. I'm just grabbing my car keys when the doorbell rings and I jump so badly that I nearly topple over in my high heels.

Startled, I walk cautiously to the door. I can't think of anyone who would be here this late. Everyone I know is either at the real prom or the fake one. I pull open the door and can't hold back a gasp.

"I'm glad I caught you." Justin is standing in front of me, grinning, but I barely notice his face, my eyes sweeping over the black tuxedo that he's wearing. I cannot wrap my head around this. "I was afraid you might've left already."

I take a shaky step back, nearly tripping, and say blankly, "What?"

He blinks, his brow furrowing as he looks me up and down. "Rosewood's prom starts at eight, right?"

"Um, yes," I stammer, bewildered even though it is obvious what he's doing here. "But I don't – "

"I had a feeling you'd be going alone," he says with a shrug, still grinning, clearly pleased with himself. "Actually…I didn't think you'd be going at all. Thought I'd have to drag you there in a t-shirt and jeans."

"Justin." I hold up my hand, resisting the urge to run a hand through my hair, which I worked on for over an hour this afternoon. "I'm sorry, but… _what_ are you talking about?"

"I started playing basketball with a guy from Rosewood," Justin explains, his face going a bit pink. "I gave him some money to get me these." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out two shimmering tickets, the same kind that I have tucked in my purse. "Although I guess you probably have one of your own, huh?"

I shake my head. This is all too much. "You – you came here to take me to the prom?" I ask, my voice quiet. "I…I can't believe this." I shoot a discreet glance at the clock. I should have left over five minutes ago.

Justin's bright smile fades a little. "Well, I mean…yeah. I was going to ask you to Brookhaven's prom, but you'd just gotten out of that…that place, and I didn't think the timing was good. So I just skipped it. Figured this could be our second chance."

I stare at him, blinking just to make sure that I'm not imagining this. Is he under the impression that we're _dating_ again, or what? Aside from a few concerned "how are you doing?" texts, we haven't spoken since the night I escaped from the dollhouse. We've certainly never spoken about going to prom together.

I can't tear my eyes away from his. His grin has dimmed into a hopeful smile. For a second, I let myself imagine going to the prom with him, spending the night dancing and laughing and not wasting one moment thinking about "A."

It would be amazing. It would be…normal.

And it's completely impossible.

"Justin," I say quietly, rubbing uncomfortably at my bare arms. "That's sweet of you. Really."

"Uh oh," he says jokingly, but the hopeful glint in his eyes has turned to apprehension…embarrassment, even. "I can hear a 'but' coming."

I laugh awkwardly, feeling my face heat up. "Yeah. The thing is…we're not the same people that we were back when we met in gymnastics class. I've definitely changed a _ton_ over the past year and a half and…and I'm sure you have, too."

He wrinkles his brow. The smile is completely gone now. "I'm not sure what you're saying."

"I'm saying that we've been trying to make this work between us all year," I go on, perching on the arm of the chair behind me. "And we haven't had much luck, have we?"

He shakes his head, clearly confused. "No…but I thought – after what happened with the kidnapping – "

I know where he's headed and cut him off, as gently as I can. "I know. What you did was amazing, Justin. You spent over two months trying to find me. And you have no idea how much that means to me.

"I just think that…so much has changed, and so much is still changing. I'm still trying to recover from what happened to me, and you…you're going to college in just a few months. You need to focus on that, and I need to focus on me."

"I want to help you, Viola," Justin says earnestly, stepping forward and placing his hand on my arm.

I smile, surprised to find that I don't have even the slightest urge to cry, even though I feel like I should. "I think we should be friends," I declare, speaking the words just as I decide them. "I can't be tied down right now. I don't think I can handle that. And anyway…when has being a couple ever worked for us?"

He laughs weakly, but the embarrassment is gone, his face returned to its normal color. "Well," he says with a smile, pulling the tickets out again, "can't friends go to a prom together, too?"

"They can," I say, holding out my hands. "But I can't. This is something that I need to do alone."

Justin bites his lip but nods, tucking them away and not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry," I say genuinely, remembering suddenly that this is his senior year. "I'm sorry that you missed out on your last prom."

He wrinkles his nose and waves his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't worry about that. Dances have never really been my thing anyway. I just wanted to do this for you."

I smile and push myself away from the chair. In my heels, I'm only a few inches shorter than him. "Thank you," I say, reaching up and kissing his cheek. "For everything."

"I'll call you," he replies, squeezing my hand and turning to the door. "Maybe we can grab coffee sometime next week."

"Sure," I say, adding silently, _And maybe, if everything goes as planned tonight, I'll actually be able to enjoy myself._ "Night, Justin."

"Night, Viola. Have a good time."

I smile as I watch him walk down the drive and get into his car. For the first time, I actually feel pretty grown up. Last year, I would have been thrilled to see Justin show up at my door with tickets to a dance, let alone the _prom._ I would have gone with him and then ditched him, spending the whole night avoiding telling him the truth while searching for "A," or running from "A," or whatever.

Just like I did the night of the masquerade.

Smiling strangely at this odd parallel, I pick up my purse once again and look up at the clock. The smile slips off of my face immediately, replaced by panic. Nine o'clock is fast approaching. Alison is almost definitely at the school now.

I grab my keys and rush to my car so quickly that I nearly face plant on the sidewalk. My relationship with Justin might finally be settled, but other things are most certainly not.

Five minutes later, I cram my car into the full parking lot, realize with a jolt that I left the ear piece at home, and take a deep breath. The fun is just beginning.

...

 **So Viola and Justin's story is finally settled. But everything else in her life is not. Next chapter is a big one, guys. And that's all I'm going to say. Please review!**


	67. Chapter 67

**Thanks to RHatch89, nick2951, and potterjay92 for reviewing, and to the favorites and follows that I've gotten as well. This is an INTENSE chapter, guys, so please let me know what you think. I'd love to update again soon, but that can only happen if I get feedback, so don't forget to review! I hope you enjoy...like I said, this is a big one. And a long one!**

Chapter 67

Alison's wearing yellow.

That's good, I tell myself as I duck behind a waiter, who's wearing a cloak that looks nearly identical to the one my sister has on, to avoid running right into the person I'm supposed to be trailing. Yellow's an obvious color. If she gets away from me, it shouldn't be hard to find her again.

But I've been following her for half an hour and I haven't lost her once, which is surprising considering the amount of people here, along with the pounding music and bright, flashing lights.

Maybe Justin's right. Dances do kind of suck.

I pause in front of the server, taking a quick break from my trailing to grab something to eat, when I nearly jump out of my skin. The crowd has shifted, and Spencer is standing just a few feet away from me, talking intently to Toby as she winds her arms around his neck.

I leap back, nearly colliding with a dancing couple who gives me a disgruntled look. So apparently Alison wasn't the only one to sneak out of the barn. It looks like the whole crew is here.

I turn away quickly, scanning around the area only to discover that I've lost Alison. Crap. I don't see a flash of yellow anywhere.

 _How far could she have gotten in ten seconds?_ I think desperately, my eye focusing on a figure on the other side of the dance floor, wearing a red cloak and a wolf mask that looks suspiciously like the one that Mona is wearing. She figured it would be easier to track down Charles if she looked like the rest of the servers at the fairytale-themed dance.

I consider waving, but I blink and the person is gone. Fairly confident now that I must have been looking at my sister, I roll my eyes, and turn back to my search. I turn in a circle, squinting through the bright lights and hordes of dancing students, ignoring the sound of Macy yelling my name from near the snack table.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of yellow disappearing around a corner leading to the maze of shrubbery that is always set up for any dance. My heart leaping, I rush after it, bursting into the cool, empty maze.

I raise my hand to my forehead, glad to be away from the hot, sweaty crowd. I allow myself a moment to catch my breath before I start through the twisting maze of vines, resisting the urge to yell out Ali's name.

I'm nearly at the end of the labyrinth when a shadow falls in my path, from right around the corner. _Alison._ Finally. I walk slowly to the end of the pathway, as quietly as I can in heels – which I'm just starting to realize are very impractical for what I'm doing – and flatten myself against the wall, peering around the corner.

I'm not looking at Alison, in a yellow dress. I'm looking at someone wearing such dark clothing that I have to squint to make them out through the dim light.

My heart begins to pound. The person, who looks somewhat small, isn't just wearing dark clothes.

They're wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled around the face. There's only one person who would wear _that_ to prom.

Charles.

I'm looking at Charles.

Even though I'm holding my breath so hard that I feel like I'm going to burst, I must make some sort of sound, because the person starts and turns toward me.

And I come face to face with "A."

Cece Drake's eyes meet mine, and before my brain even makes the connection that she's Charles – that she's _"A" –_ a memory practically runs me down.

…

 _"_ _I'm gonna come back tomorrow, okay? Dad's coming back home tonight and I know he'll come. Maybe we can even get Mom to come."_

 _"_ _Okay," Mona says, and her voice is dull and toneless. But this is the third time that she's spoken to me since I got here an hour ago, which is such a huge improvement over her usual catatonic state that I beam brightly and hug her._

 _I'm still grinning as I walk out of her room, reaching for my phone to text my mother with the good news. But apparently I chose the wrong time to look down, because a moment later I smack off of something – or someone, I guess – and let out a little yelp of surprise._

 _My head snaps up as I fumble with my phone. A young woman is standing in front of me, with blond hair and a half smile, and such a strong wave of familiarity courses through me that I nearly stumble back again._

 _"_ _Hey," the girl says, raising her eyebrows at me. A large red purse is swinging from her arm._

 _"_ _Sorry," I mutter, tearing my gaze away before it gets awkward. "I wasn't looking where I was going."_

 _"_ _No worries," she says, smiling slightly at me again. "Happens to the best of us."_

 _My eyes widen. All at once, I realize why she looks so familiar. The tone of her voice, the tilt of her head, the style of her clothes…I'm basically looking at an older version of Alison, incarnate._

 _I open and close my mouth a few times, too caught off guard to process what to say next, until I glance around and remember where we are. Mona's room is at the very end of the hallway, and we're only a few steps away. There's only one possible reason why this girl is here right now._

 _Warily, I glance back at the closed door and say, "Are you, um…are you visiting Mona?"_

 _There is a change in her expression, but it is so slight that I wonder if I imagined it. "I am," she says slowly, her face completely neutral. She looks me up and down, examining me the same way that Alison used to do, and I try not to squirm. "You're her little sister, aren't you?"_

 _I nod. "I'm Viola. And you're…?"_

 _She smiles, gesturing to the visitor's pass that is clipped to her shirt. "I'm Cece Drake."_

 _She steps forward as if to move past me, but I block her, not quite finished with this conversation. Something about this is bothering me…maybe the fact that my sister is being visited by a woman so like Alison that they could be related._

 _"_ _So," I say casually, leaning against the wall to keep Cece from skirting around me, "why are you visiting Mona? I've been coming here since April and I've never seen you."_

 _She pauses, and I search her eyes for any sign of unease, finding none. "I have a friend on the staff," she says coolly, but not unkindly. "He called me up the other day, said they had a teenage patient here who's been showing some progress. He seemed to think I'd make a good role model for her."_

 _Highly doubting this, I cross my arms and ask, "Is your friend a doctor here? What's his name?"_

 _"_ _Ah," Cece says, patting my arm and smiling almost condescendingly, "but if I told you that, then I'd have to kill you."_

 _"_ _What?" I say in alarm, but she's already edged around me and disappeared into my sister's room._

…

Almost as soon as that memory comes back to me, it's gone again, replaced by a rambling stream of thoughts.

 _Cece Drake is Charles. She's "A." She's the person who stole the game from Mona, who's been tormenting us all this time, who locked us all in the dollhouse…_

We're staring at each other, and there is a look of shock on her face very unlike the cool disposition she had when I met her at Radley. I'd forgotten all about that, I realize, remembering when the other girls and I found Ezra's Ravenswood lair. They'd been talking about Cece, and I had thought her name sounded familiar…

My mind is spinning so fast that I can't do anything but stare right into the face of "A," who seems about as surprised as I am. But in the next moment, I'm raising my hand, taking in a breath, and she's gone, whirling around the corner and out of sight.

The sudden movement snaps me back to the present, and I run after her, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I can barely hear the music. I burst back out onto the main area of the prom, gasping for breath and looking around wildly.

I know who "A" is.

 _I know who "A" is._

I spin around aimlessly, desperate to find Mona and tell her what I just saw. I can't believe I forgot the ear piece at home. I don't see a red cloak anywhere, and I'm just preparing to shove through the crowd when someone grabs my arm.

I whirl around, bracing myself for an attack, but a girl with short blond hair stares back at me. It takes me a moment to realize that this is Sara Harvey.

"Sara, thank god!" I practically shout above the music and cheering, barely pausing to wonder why she's at our prom instead of her own.

"What's going on, Viola?" she asks, her eyes widening as she takes me in. I don't blame her – I'm sure I look hysterical. "Have you seen Emily?"

"What? No, I – who cares? Sara, listen to me." I grab her arm and pull her over to the side of the dance floor, closer to the hallway. "I was looking for Ali and – I found out who Charles is."

Sara's face goes immediately pale. "You – "

But the words burst out before she can say anything more. "Cece Drake is 'A,'" I announce, aware that she most likely has no idea who that is, unless Emily has filled her in on the past two years. "I don't know if you know her, but I thought I was following Ali into the maze and I turned a corner and – and there she was."

Sara stares at me, not blinking, looking a little green. My heart is hammering excitedly. I can't believe she isn't having more of a reaction to this. I just found out who kept her locked in an underground dungeon for over two years – shouldn't she be elated? Shouldn't she be helping me figure out what to do next?

But her eyes have slipped from my face down to the ground. "Okay," I mutter, shaking my head and beginning to push past her, "I have to find – "

"Wait, Viola," Sara bursts out suddenly, her hand closing around my arm and pulling me back. I catch sight of a flash of red disappearing around the DJ stand and try to release myself from Sara's grasp, but she holds tight.

"I can't wait," I yell, pulling away my arm. "Sara, I don't know what Emily's told you about what we've went through, but this is _serious._ We need to find her and the others and tell them this. I know who 'A' is. We have to _end this._ "

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Sara says shakily, still looking a bit green.

I'm so stunned that I stop trying to escape. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable in the blue and silver dress she's wearing. "I mean…you guys have been wrong before, right? About 'A'? Do you really think that if this person really is Charles, that she'd make it so easy for you to find her?"

I shake my head. She just doesn't get it, I remind myself, forcing down my annoyance. She hasn't dealt with what we have. "Charles sent Alison a message telling her to come here tonight," I explain, my words all slurring together in my haste to finish this stupid argument. "So we already knew that he's – _she's –_ here somewhere. Why else would Cece be walking around in a black hoodie?"

"I don't know," Sara admits, glancing around nervously and clasping her hands together. I narrow my eyes at her. I know from the others that she's been a little skittish ever since she got out of that place, but I'm beginning to get the feeling that something strange is going on here. "I just don't think you should jump to the conclusion that this Cece person must be 'A.'"

I fold my arms impatiently and raise my eyebrows. I really do not have time for this. "So you don't think I should tell the others what I saw."

"Not until we find more proof," Sara says insistently. "Do you really want to get their hopes up only to find out that we're not any closer to finding Charles than we ever have been?" She pauses, then continues quickly, her voice shaking, "This person tried to run me over with a car a few weeks ago, Viola. I want to find them as much as you do. I just don't think we should tell everyone something so huge without a better explanation than you seeing someone in a black sweatshirt."

But my eyes have focused on something behind her. Emily, Spencer, Hanna, and Aria are clustered together in a secluded corner, near the maze that I just came out of. Alison is nowhere in sight, and their heads are bent together intently.

 _Did they see her too?_ I think, desperate for someone who will take me seriously. I shove past Sara and rush toward them, ignoring her call for me to wait.

"You guys," I exclaim, and they all glance at me as I join the group. "I have to – what's that?" My eyes narrow at a small object clutched in Hanna's fist, but I can't make out what it is in the dim light until she opens her hand to reveal a cell phone.

"It's Ali's phone," she explains, her brow wrinkled in concern. "We just found it, right at the entrance to the maze."

"We think Charles took Alison," Spencer goes on before I can even open my mouth. "We were trying to keep an eye on her, but we lost her almost twenty minutes ago. Have you seen her, Viola?"

"Huh? Oh, no, but guys, there's something you need to – "

"Call her house again," Emily interjects, crossing her arms and looking sick.

I open my mouth again, growing desperate, but Hanna holds out a finger to shush me. "Nobody's home," she groans after a few moments, her hand falling to her side, her knuckles white as she squeezes the phone.

"Ali could be on the roof," Emily exclaims, throwing her arms out at her sides. "Did anybody check the roof?"

"Guys, we promised Toby that we would stay here until he escorted us out, remember?" Spencer says, but even she seems to be struggling to stay calm. But one thing is for sure – they definitely do not know what I know.

I hop up and down a bit, adrenaline still coursing through me, and try once again to interrupt. "Can you please – "

"The guys are talking to Clark and Tanner," Sara's voice rings out, and she appears beside Emily. "She's got a lot of questions, for all of us."

"Wait," I burst out, momentarily distracted. "You guys called the cops?"

"Toby called for assistance," Spencer explains, raising an eyebrow at me. "Alison is _missing,_ Viola. What else were we supposed to do?"

"But how long do we have to stay here?" Emily says, exasperated. "We could be out there looking for her."

"Look, Em," Aria says anxiously. "We have to believe that Charles isn't gonna hurt Alison. She's his sister."

Emily turns on her, looking thoroughly fed up. "Charles drove his car through my house, Aria, okay? I believe he'll hurt anybody who gets in his way."

The mentions of Charles as "he" are making me twitch. "You guys!" I practically scream, and the others all jump, turning to me. "I have to tell you something."

"Okay, Viola," Spencer sighs. "What is it?"

I open my mouth and take in a breath – my god, they are going to freak, this is going to change everything – but Sara catches my eye and I freeze.

 _Do you really want to get their hopes up only to find out that we're not any closer to finding Charles than we ever have been?_

 _You guys have been wrong before, right?_

The exhilaration flies out of me like the air let out of a balloon. What if I _am_ wrong? What if there's another explanation for Cece walking around the prom in a black hoodie? She was Ali's friend – maybe Alison sent her to distract Charles, the _real_ Charles.

Maybe Sara's right. Telling them that Cece is "A" will distract us all, take the focus away from finding Alison. If I'm right, it might help the police – or, who am I kidding, _us –_ find her sooner. But if I'm wrong…

"Um," I mutter, ducking my head to try and hide my indecision. "I, uh – "

A twig cracks, and Aria jumps. "You guys, I don't think we're alone in here."

We all exchange anxious glances. _Is that Cece?_ I wonder, terrified, as I follow Aria and Hanna around the corner. But I don't see any shadows, don't hear any other sounds, no indication that there's anyone else here.

We meet back up a moment later, on the other side of the maze, with the other girls. Sara shoots me a small smile and nod, but I rip my gaze away, frustrated and suddenly wishing I had a flower so I could play that game.

 _I should tell them, I should not, I should tell them…_

"Are you sure that you saw somebody?" Spencer asks warily once we're all standing in a group again, concealed from the rest of the dancers by the shrubbery.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Aria says immediately, her eyes large.

"Aria, there's no way out of here," Hanna says quickly, clearly trying to convince herself just as much as us.

But as soon a the words leave her mouth, a loud bang, followed by a low creak, echoes around us.

I stumble back as I watch the shrubs part, revealing a secret passageway leading into a narrow hallway. _What the hell?_ After seeing Cece Drake in that black hoodie, I was convinced that nothing else would shock me tonight.

I was wrong.

I step back just as Emily begins walking forward, leading the way into the hidden room. Shaking my head, I follow, my shoulder basically pressed against Hanna's. This is absolutely insane. I've stood right here over a dozen times over the last few years. This place has been here this whole time?

The hallway is short, ending in a silver wall consisting of only a generator. I exchange an uneasy glance with Hanna, all thoughts of Cece pushed out of my mind. Are we about to come face to face with "A"? And will this be Cece…or someone completely

different?

But suddenly a person appears in front of us from somewhere to the side. A person wearing a red cloak and a wolf mask that hides their entire face.

I roll my eyes and my heart immediately settles, even as it becomes clear that I am the only one not panicking anymore. The other girls all look stricken.

I open my mouth to make a sarcastic comment when my sister reaches up and pulls off the mask, shaking out her hair. Sighs of combined relief and annoyance come from all sides, and I smirk, despite myself, moving to stand beside her.

"God, Mona, you scared the crap out of us," Aria gasps, pressing a hand to her chest.

"I've been following Alison since yesterday morning," my sister says, and with that, I turn away and stop listening, as girls ask questions and she explains the plan that I already know.

My mind is spinning so fast that I feel like I've just had about six cups of coffee…maybe laced with something. This is insane. I can't believe I'm still sitting on this secret. I may have just found out who freaking _"A"_ is. The person who has been tormenting all of us for a year. The person who locked us in an underground bunker for months. The person who might be doing something terrible to Alison right now.

Screw Sara Harvey. I need to tell them. _Now._

I'm just snapping back to the present, prepared to interrupt whatever they're talking about with Cece Drake's name on my lips, when I glance over and notice that they're all crowded around a tablet.

"What is it?" I ask, shaking my head.

"Charles has his own cellular network," Mona says faintly, not looking up from the coordinates on the screen, "and the servers are located at…"

"The Carissimi Group," Spencer finishes, her eyes wide.

"I knew it," Hanna exclaims. "Rhys is Charles."

 _What?_ I stare blankly as the girls exchange looks of mixed exhilaration and fear. They obviously know something I don't. And they look so certain about this Carissimi thing. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe whoever this Rhys person is really _is_ "A."

"I'm going to get Ali," Emily states fiercely, and moments later we're packed into Spencer's SUV, all seven of us, as she pulls out of the school's parking lot and heads for downtown Rosewood.

I still know that I should tell them, new suspect or not. Cece was lurking around the prom in the black hoodie that we all know only too well. "A" or not, there's something suspicious about her…I've known it even since I met her in Radley so long ago, even though I wasn't aware of it then.

But my mouth stays closed the whole drive to the sleek building packed along one of Rosewood's main streets, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'm shaking too badly for any words to come out. Maybe it's because it seems like it would be impossible to talk around the huge lump in my throat. Maybe it's because I can feel Sara's eyes on my back the whole drive.

Or maybe it's because I need to make absolute sure that I'm right before I screw everything up yet again.

...

 **Phew, hope you all got through that! Again, I would really appreciate getting a lot of feedback on this one, so review! Next, Viola and the others discover the true "A" lair, and someone's true allegiances are revealed.**


	68. Chapter 68

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed over the past few days! I appreciate the feedback, as always. This is where the real end begins, so let me know what you think. I'm not sure how people are going to like what ends up happening with Viola in this chapter and the next, but I do have my reasons.**

Chapter 68

"Do you really think we can outsmart 'A'?"

The hallway is chilly, and I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at my bare shoulders. My first thought is that I left my wrap in Spencer's car. My second thought is how stupid it is that I'm thinking about something like clothing at a time like this.

"Try his birthday," Mona says, and Spencer types a few numbers into the keypad attached to the locked door that we're gathered in front of. Part of me is hoping that whatever is behind that door proves that Rhys is Charles, so I can forget about what I saw and let go of my guilt over keeping it a secret for so long. The other part of me wants there to be no proof, so I can spill what I know without fearing the consequences of being wrong.

"Try Mrs. D's birthday," my sister tries again, sounding tired. "Twelve-eighteen."

Hanna wrinkles her nose. "Wait, you know Mrs. D's birthday?"

"I'm a self-taught eidetiker."

Spencer rolls her eyes and frowns in irritation. "That's not a learned skill. It's a phenomenon."

I hop back and forth, trying to get control of my shaking. One more, I tell myself, accidentally meeting Sara's eyes. She shakes her head almost imperceptivity and I snap my head down. One more guess, and if they can't get the password, I'll tell them what I found out about Cece. Whether she's "A" or not we can figure out later, but Ali could be in trouble. And I can't let another person get hurt.

I've done enough of that.

Sara clears her throat, and everyone looks over at her. "What is it?" Emily asks.

She takes a deep breath and says, looking at everyone but me, "Five days after he took me to the bunker, Charles gave me a red, white, and blue cupcake. But it wasn't the Fourth of July. I kept track of every day that I was there. And every year, he gave me a cupcake on September seventh."

Spencer raises her eyebrows and stoops down again, typing the date into the keypad. I hold my breath. This is it. If this fails, I'm going to tell them, and we can figure out together if I'm right or wrong.

 _Click._

I let out the breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. I'm not sure if I feel more relieved or paranoid. Anything could be behind that door.

"See?" Mona says triumphantly, squeezing my arm as we file through the door. "We are smarter than Charles."

 _Seven against one of equal intelligence?_ I think as I follow her into a brown-walled, dark, plain room. I'm not so sure I like those odds, whether Charles is Cece or Rhys or whoever.

"It's just a stupid room!" Hanna exclaims, throwing out her arms and gazing around the small space. I nod, but I can't help the feeling of foreboding in my stomach. This can't be it. There has to be something more here, and I have a strange feeling that something is about to go very wrong.

"But 'A's' not stupid," Spencer mutters, and I pull out my phone, checking the time. The dance ends at eleven. And the sick feeling in my gut is growing stronger with every second that we stand here. Maybe I should text my mom before we go any farther, tell her where we are, or at least that I love her.

But before I can do anything besides turn it on, the wall in front of us splits into two, sliding apart to reveal the strangest thing I've ever seen.

It looks like a lair out of a superhero comic book. From what I can see, it's completely made of silver metal, with a big table right in the middle. Whoa. This blows our stupid little RV way out of the water.

I exchange a nervous glance with my sister and we all walk toward it, huddled together. Hanna leads the group, and I hear her call back, "Did we just walk inside 'A's' brain?"

But just before I reach the door, someone grabs my arm, pulling me back. I gasp, stumbling on the hem of my dress. "You're doing the right thing, Viola," Sara whispers, her hand wrapping around my wrist. "Not telling them what you saw. It would only make this worse."

"What are you talking about?" I snap, yanking my arm out of her grip. "Let go of me. I'm telling them about Cece, as soon as I get in there. I can't keep this to myself." I glance toward the lair like room. All of the others have moved inside, and are looking back at us.

"You guys okay?" Emily calls, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I'm fine," I reply, finally wrenching my arm completely away from Sara. "I'm coming." But I haven't taken more than a step when she sidesteps me and rams right into my arm. My phone falls from my hand and skids across the floor, coming to rest near the door where we came in.

"I'm sorry," Sara says, her voice shaking, and calls to Emily as I run to grab my phone, "I'm gonna wait out here. It's a little tight in there."

 _What the hell is she doing?_ I stoop down and grab my phone, and am just straightening up when the sound of metal scraping together turns my head.

The walls are sliding to meet each other.

Oh my god. I'm going to be locked out. "No!" I scream, running back for the entrance. "Wait – Mona!"

"Viola!" my sister cries, but I stop right in front of the door. The gap is closing too fast. There's only a sliver left. I'll never make it.

So there's only one thing left for me to do. The desperation has been building in me since I caught sight of that black clad figure in the maze, and in one instant it all pours out. The words come out in a scream. _"I know who 'A' is!"_

I take in a breath and open my mouth again, but it's too late. Five shocked faces are the last things I see before the walls connect completely, separating us.

My heart drops into my stomach and I press my hands against the door, my breath coming in short gasps of panic. "Oh my god, oh my god, we're locked out! How are we gonna get in?"

I whirl around. Sara is standing a few feet back from me, her hands awkwardly at her sides and her face impassive. "What is wrong with you?" I scream, tears pooling in my eyes. "We have to get in there!"

"Maybe there's another way in," she says, and turns, rushing back into the sleek hallway of the Carissimi group. I gape after her for a moment. The door we came in through was protected by a padlock. I highly doubt we're going to find some easy-access, convenient back door into what looks like an evil villain's lair.

But I'm desperate, and there doesn't look to be another way. So I take a deep breath and hurry after her. We rush down the hallway and around a corner. There are closed doors on either side of us, but most are made of glass. They're just normal offices. Like this is a normal office building without a crazy psycho hideout.

But there's a door at the very end of the hall, made of wood instead of glass. "Maybe this is it," Sara calls back, reaching for the doorknob.

It doesn't look like it to me, but what do I know? I'll try anything. I beat her to it, yanking open the door and staring inside.

It's a closet, barely big enough to hold a few brooms and a shelf of cleaning supplies. I groan. "No," I say, shaking my head and moving to step back to close the door. "Nothing. Let's go back and try to – "

I glance back, and Sara's just coming into my line of vision when something flies toward me. And a moment later, that same something connects with my back – hard. I pitch forward, realizing only when it's too late that it was her fist.

"What the hell?" I gasp, grabbing onto the shelf to keep from knocking into it. "Sara, what are you – "

She's standing in the doorway, staring at me with complete indifference. "You weren't supposed to find out, Viola. That wasn't part of her plan," she snaps, and steps back. The door slams in my face.

I can't comprehend this. Not one bit. "What?" I grab the doorknob and yank. It doesn't budge. "Sara! What the – let me out! What are you doing?"

I hear footsteps clacking away from the closet and sink back against the wall, my heart pounding. _That wasn't part of her plan._

 _Her plan._

The pieces all fall into place before I can even think it through. The "she" is Cece. Cece is Charles. And Sara is working with her.

But that means…my sister and friends could be locked in a room with "A" right now.

The terror hits me like a freight train. I need to help them. I need to tell someone about this. I need to call the police. _I need to get out of here._ My phone is still clutched in my hand and I fumble with it, holding it up. The screen is completely cracked from when it hit the tile floor, and it won't turn on.

It's completely broken.

"This can't be happening," I groan, leaning against the back shelf. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and employ my last strategy. " _Help! Somebody help!_ "

After a few more screams, I cough, rubbing at my throat. It feels totally raw. My first instinct is that it's from all the yelling, and I swallow hard. I can't give up now. I'm going to scream until someone lets me out, and then I'm going to find a way to call the police and put this whole thing to rest.

But once I breathe in, it becomes quickly apparent that the burn in my throat isn't from the yelling. And when I tilt back my head, I figure it out pretty quickly. It's from the gray smoke billowing out from the air vent by the ceiling of the closet.

My mouth falls open in shock. Is there a fire somewhere in the building? Or…is this on purpose? My mind flashes back to Sara's words before she locked me in here. I wasn't supposed to find out. Like I'm a variable that Cece wasn't expecting.

And this is how they're dealing with it.

I'm going to die in here.

It feels like my whole body has simultaneously kicked into fight or flight mode. I turn frantically back to the door, pounding on the wood with both fists. "Let me out! _Somebody please help me!_ "

The smoke doesn't stop, and there's only silence outside the door.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed! Again, let me know what you think about what's going on, as the next chapter is a direct continuation of this one.**


	69. Chapter 69

**Hey guys, I really wanted to get this up yesterday but I was having Internet issues. Thanks to potterjay92, RHatch89, nick2951, BadSmiles, and Diane61 for the reviews! You guys are so fantastic! This is the third to last chapter, so please keep letting me know what you think.**

Chapter 69

It's like the dollhouse all over again.

Only this time, the torture isn't psychological. It's physical.

And there doesn't seem to be a chance of me getting out.

But other than that, it feels like I'm reliving those horrible two months all over again. I'm trapped in a small space with no way out. I'm being tortured to the point where I have no idea how much time has passed. I'm barely hanging on.

I have no idea if I've been in here twenty minutes or two hours. My mind is foggy, probably from the smoke inhalation, even though I'm curled in the corner as far from the vent as I can get, a wad of toilet paper from the shelf pressed against my mouth and nose.

It doesn't make a difference. The smoke has gotten so thick that I can't see my hand in front of my face. I only know it's not stopping because of the occasional puffs of air as it squeezes through the cracks in the vent.

I can't be certain if I'm dying or not. It sure feels like it, though. I've coughed so hard that my lungs feel like they're about to collapse. Even though I can't see anything aside from a gray fog, I'm dizzy. It's getting harder to keep my eyes open and I can't hold my head up, either. I have to lean against the door for support.

Maybe it would be easier to give up, I wonder as I force my eyes to stay open. To stop fighting and just lie down and…let it happen. I can't bring myself to think about the word "die." But this is the millionth time I've been in a situation like this. It's not going to stop. "A" is too powerful. So why do I keep resisting the inevitable?

I wonder where Mona, and Ali, and the other girls are. Are they going through the same thing I am? Or have they found out the truth about Cece? When I was first locked in here, who knows how long ago now, I kept thinking about the possible explanations for her motives, why she's doing this to us, but my brain is too foggy to question it anymore.

The only thing I regret is that I'm going to die without finding out the why. I'll never know why "A" has been torturing us for so long. What I ever did to deserve this.

Aside from my labored breathing and frequent coughing, it's been silent in here since I gave up on yelling for help. So, despite the ringing in my ears, it's easy for me to pick up on the sound of heels clacking down the hallway outside.

Along with…shouting?

My head snaps up from where it was resting on my chest. Someone's out there. Judging by the sound, a _lot_ of someones. I cough and push myself up from the floor. My arm is so weak that I nearly fall back again.

My throat feels like it's on fire and filled with lava, but I force the words out scratchily. "Help…someone, please…" I knock on the door as forcefully as I can.

But it's not enough. The faint yelling and sound of heels fades, and I'm left alone once again.

No. Energy surges through me like a shot of caffeine. I'm not going to let this happen. Someone's out there. Someone _has_ to be. And suddenly it's like the smoke can't hurt me anymore. Gulping hard, I raise myself to my feet and pound against the door with a scream of, " _Help me!_ " that nearly tears my throat apart.

I pause, and for the longest moment there's only silence, like all hope really is lost.

And then the door flies open.

Half because I'm so desperate to get out, and half because I was leaning against it, I pitch forward, stumbling out into the hallway, which fills with smoke so quickly that I can't see the face of my rescuer.

What I _do_ see is a flash of red and dark hair, and I cry out in relief, flinging my arms around my sister so hard that my knees nearly buckle. "Mona," I gasp, hugging her tightly, then pulling away. "Thank god…Cece is 'A.'"

"I know. And Sara's Red Coat," she replies, and the smoke finally begins to clear enough for me to see her clearly. She looks pale and scared, and her eyes are red-rimmed like she's been crying.

"She locked me in there," I say, my voice shaking. I raise my hand to my face and realize that _I'm_ the one who's crying, right now. "She was going to kill me."

At the word "kill," my sister's eyes widen in fear. "We have to get out of here," she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway. "Now."

"What?" I stumble in my haste to catch up with her. Every time I move, my vision tilts. My head still feels like it's going to crack open. "Why? Where's Cece now?"

"We heard her story," Mona calls, glancing back at me. "She had her whole family trapped in Radley. And she's going to blow it up."

I skid to a stop way too quickly in heels, and smack my hand against the wall for support. " _What?_ " My heart thudding, I leap back. "Then what are we running for? We have to go and stop her!"

"The other girls already went," she insists, pulling on my hand. "They're going to stop her." She pauses, and I frown, seeing that same sadness in her eyes. "I need to get out of here."

"Okay," I relent, not so sure I'm making the right decision, but figuring that she knows a lot more than I do. "Let's go."

We don't speak again until we run down a flight of stairs and out of the Carissimi building, out onto the street. Due to my broken phone, I have no idea what time it is, but at least several hours must have passed since we left the dance. And the sky is inky black, Main Street completely deserted. Prom has to be way over.

Breathing hard, I lean back against the front door to the building. My whole body aches, and I don't think I'll ever be able to get the taste of smoke out of my mouth. After what I went through in the dollhouse, I should be used to near-death experiences by now, I guess. I'm not.

But somewhere, buried deep beneath the fear, and panic, and anger, is something else, something just about to burst through: Relief.

"Cece is 'A,'" I mutter, and even though that's been all I've thinking for the last few hours, the words feel strange on my tongue.

"She's Charles," Mona confirms, leaning against the side of the building beside me. "Mr. D sent her away to Radley because he didn't accept her for who she was."

"Seriously?" I feel my eyebrows shoot up. Of all of the reasons for becoming "A," _that's_ the one?

"It's a long story," she mutters. "We can talk about it at home."

We turn and start heading in the direction of our street. After half a block, I pause, reaching down and pulling off my heels. I think the thing I'm most looking forward to, even more than hearing the story behind the person who's been tormenting me for a year, is taking this stupid dress off. I've never been more uncomfortable in my life.

But there's something else bothering me, something nagging at the back of my mind, and it's not until our house comes into view that I realize what it is. "Cece was going to kill me," I burst out, stopping. "She wanted you guys to hear her story, she purposefully kept you away from Radley so you could live…but she had Sara lock me in that room and leave me to die. Why…why did she hate me so much?"

This shouldn't matter to me. It sounds ridiculous even coming out of my own mouth. Cece hated us all. She tried to kill me, my sister, and our friends so many times that I've lost count. I should not be wondering why such a psychopath wanted me to die just as much as everyone else.

And yet…thinking back on the events of this evening, I can't shake the feeling that this was different. This was personal.

Mona is staring at me, looking like she's having some kind of internal battle. I step forward and put my hands on her shoulders. "You got to hear the truth," I say quietly, my voice low. "Now it's my turn."

"Okay." She glances back at the house – our parents' car is still gone, thankfully – and says, "It was Bethany Young who pushed Marion Cavanaugh off of the roof. She blamed Charles – _Charlotte –_ for it, and the doctors believed her."

Once the shock of this revelation wears off, I can practically feel the puzzle pieces clicking into place.

 _"_ _Bitch."_

 _"_ _Killer."_

 _"_ _Liar."_

"Cece made me pretend to be Bethany in the dollhouse," I whisper. The shoes in my hand slip out of my grip, clattering to the sidewalk. "She wanted to torture Bethany for ruining her life all those years ago."

"She referred to us as her dolls, back in there," my sister says, pulling me along toward the house. "She finally got the real Alison, but she must have still seen you as Bethany."

"And she was going to kill me because I was the next best thing," I mumble, my stomach constricting. I can't stop thinking about those horrible days – or was it weeks? – on that holographic rooftop, the generated wind whipping around me while those voices screamed that I was a killer. I can't believe I didn't put the pieces together sooner.

The house is dark and silent. I walk inside first and flick on the lights in the living room, glancing at the chair near the entrance. It's just after midnight. I can't believe that just a little over three hours ago, I was standing right in this spot, rejecting Justin's invitation to the prom. It feels like decades ago.

I put a foot on the first stair, ready to rip this dress off and sleep for two weeks, when my stomach lets out a grumble. "I haven't eaten since this afternoon," I say, pressing a hand to it. "I'm starving. Do you want something?"

Silence. "Mona?" I call, glancing back. My sister is standing by the front door, her face white and her hand pressed against her mouth. "Um. You okay?"

She takes a deep breath, and her words are muffled by her hand. "I have to tell you something."

This is not news to me. I still feel completely in the dark when it comes to why Cece decided to torture all of us just because her father wouldn't accept her as a girl. "Well, yeah, you have to tell me a lot, actually. Can we start at the beginning?"

"No," she says, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "This isn't about Cece. It's about me."

Oh God. If my nerves weren't already so shot, my heart would probably be beating hard right now. But I just feel exhausted. "Okay," I sigh, walking into the kitchen and pouring two glasses of water. "Tell me."

Mona sits down at the table across from me, holding the glass tightly. Now I really am getting nervous. I have a feeling this isn't going to be a good story.

"The night that Alison went missing, Bethany stole Cece's clothes and escaped from Radley," she explains quietly. I have to strain my ears to hear, leaning forward in my seat. "Cece went after her. She was afraid that Bethany was going to hurt Mrs. D for having an affair with her dad. So she snuck into Alison's backyard, saw a girl in a yellow shirt, and hit her on the head with a rock."

I gasp. "Cece killed Bethany?"

My sister shakes her head, looking on the verge of throwing up. I can't figure out what's wrong until she says, "No. Cece thought it was Bethany, but…it wasn't. She hit Ali."

There's something wrong here, and I can feel my brain spinning, trying to come to the conclusion. I can't stop thinking about my own memory from that night. What I'm hearing and what I remember do not add up. "But if it was Cece who hit Alison, then…"

"She looked like Ali from behind," Mona says suddenly, her eyes shining with tears. "They were wearing the same thing. And I didn't stick around after I hit her."

Now I feel kind of like _I_ might throw up, too. "Wait. You're saying that – "

She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand tightly. "I killed Bethany."

"You killed Bethany," I repeat quietly, and strangely, the moment the words are out of my mouth, the sick feeling in my stomach resides.

"I felt awful after it happened," she whispers, closing her eyes. "But when I found Ali on the side of the road, with that bloody gash on her head, I thought that was it. It didn't even seem to hurt her. But I actually _killed_ someone that night, Viola."

She is starting to look scarily on the verge of a panic attack, so I lean forward, holding her hand tight, and say, "Bethany killed Toby's mother. On purpose. She pushed her off of a roof without a second thought. And that night, she was going to do the same thing. You stopped her from ending another life."

Mona nods. Some of the color is starting to return to her face. "But whether she was a good person or not doesn't take away from the fact that I killed her. Someone had a life, and I took it away from them."

There's no good answer for that, so I sit in silence, sipping my water and trying to think of something, anything, comforting to say. And then something else occurs to me. Something better. "Wait a minute," I gasp, and leap up. "I'll be right back."

"What are you – "

But I'm already out of the room, tearing up the stairs. I trip on the hem of my dress and pitch forward into my room, but I barely notice the pain in my elbow as it whacks against the doorframe.

 _Where is it?_ I dump out every drawer in my desk, rifle through my dresser, and feel under the mattress before I remember. There's one spot in my room that is the ultimate hiding place. And this is the ultimate thing to keep hidden.

I squat down in the middle of the floor, my dress pooling around me, and shove back the blue throw rug, revealing the wooden floorboards underneath. I spread my palms around the floor until I find the one board that's loose, and wrench it free.

A small, black, cracked cell phone sits beneath it. I scoop it up and turn it on, impressed and relieved to find that it still has a small amount of battery left after not being in use for almost six months. Quickly, my hands shaking, I flip through the photos until I find the ones I'm looking for.

Bingo.

I run, nearly fall, back down the stairs. "You didn't kill Bethany," I announce to my sister, who is looking at me like I've gone completely insane.

"Weren't you listening?" she snaps, her voice shaking. "I told you, I hit her with – "

"Yes, yes, I know," I say sharply, kneeling down beside her. "But it wasn't the blow to her head that killed her." I grin, holding up the black phone. "Recognize this?"

Mona's mouth falls open. "I thought you got rid of that when we were kicked off of the 'A' team."

"I hid it," I reply. My voice is trembling with excitement. "There was too much on it, I couldn't risk anyone finding it. It's been under the floorboards in my room since the day after the lodge fire.

"I was digging around in the lair one day when I found a copy of Alison's – well, Bethany's – autopsy report. So I took pictures of the pages. Look at this."

Mona takes the phone from my hand and holds it up to read the tiny words. After a moment, she looks up at me, shocked. "Bethany died of suffocation."

"She was buried alive," I confirm, smiling grimly. "You just knocked her out, you didn't kill her. Melissa Hastings did, when she put her in that hole."

She shakes her head, biting her lip. "That doesn't make what I did any better."

I shrug, getting to my feet. "Maybe it doesn't seem like it now. But you'll learn to live with it just like we've all learned to live with all of this." But my patience has worn thin. There are about a million questions buzzing in my brain. I can't keep talking about this one event out of the other hundred that I don't yet know.

"Come on," I say, wrapping my arm around my sister's wrist and pulling her up. "We need to talk. I want to know everything."

...

 **Again, please review! I'd love to get the next chapter up in a couple days - I'm not going to give anything away, but it's a final defining moment for Viola.**


	70. Chapter 70

**Thank you to RHatch89, potterjay92, nick2951, Diane61, and BadSmiles for reviewing! Your feedback means so much to me, especially as we're now on the SECOND TO LAST chapter of this story! I'd love to get the last one up in the next few days, so please review!**

Chapter 70

"Hi. I'm here to visit a patient."

The déjà vu is strong. Bile rises in my throat as soon as I speak the words, but I swallow hard and force myself not to run.

 _This place is not Radley,_ I remind myself as I take in the sterile white tile floor, light blue walls, and white wooden nurse's station. _No bad memories here. A clean slate._

A clean slate…until I step through those doors to my left, marked "Visiting Room."

The nurse is young and cheerful-looking, unlike the hardened nurses at Radley, and she smiles at me. "Can I have your name, please?"

"Viola Vanderwaal."

"And the name of the person you're here to see?"

I take a deep breath and will my voice not to shake. To my surprise, the words come out strong. "Charlotte. Charlotte DiLaurentis."

The nurse types on her computer for a moment, and smiles at me once again. "You're in luck. Looks like her doctors just started allowing her visitors yesterday." She gestures to the set of double doors. "You can go ahead in."

I hesitate, bouncing a little on my heels. "I don't need a visitor's pass?"

"Oh, no," she says, shaking her head. "We don't do that here. Too many things that could go wrong."

 _You're telling me,_ I think as I thank her and turn to face the entrance to the visitor's room. Suddenly my feet feel rooted to the floor. I'm not sure I can do this.

I've been putting it off for weeks now, giving myself various excuses nearly every day. _She's probably not allowed visitors. What if Ali's there?_ _Seeing Cece –_ Charlotte – _will just make me feel worse._

But the longer I put it off, the more desire I have to talk to her, to see the person who stalked me and gave me orders and kidnapped me face to face, just one time. To finally put a rest to this, once and for all. To finally be able to move on with my life.

I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and push through the doors.

One thing about Welby State Psychiatric Hospital is that it's a heck of a lot nicer than Radley Sanitarium ever was. At Radley, the visitor's room was dark and gloomy, with beat up folding chairs, small windows too high up to look out of, and a deep sense of depression.

But as soon as I step into the room here, I blink, almost having to squint. The room's painted various shades of white and light blue, and large windows let in the bright sunlight from outside. Patients are milling around, some playing card games together at tables, some chatting with relatives or friends, and one who is even asleep on one of the sofas.

One of the nurses walks over to a blond woman sitting with her back to me, facing one of the windows and holding up a book. "Charlotte," she says quietly, touching her shoulder. "You have a visitor."

Then Charlotte DiLaurentis sets the book on the sofa and turns, her eyes meeting mine. "Viola," she says, smiling, and I nearly pass out on the spot.

I can't do this. I have to do this.

"I'll leave you two alone to talk," the nurse says, and I watch in horror as she walks all the way to the other side of the room. Is she crazy? Does she not know what this person put me through only several weeks ago? She shouldn't be left alone with anybody, not even in a crowded room!

"Want to sit?" Charlotte asks pleasantly, gesturing to the white wicker chair perpendicular to the sofa.

I sit, but warily. She's still smiling at me, but a bit of the softness in her eyes is gone. I have a bad feeling about this. For minutes that seem to stretch into hours, we sit in silence. I fiddle with my hands in my lap, twisting my ring around my finger. I had about a million things planned to say to her, my tormenter. To "A." But now my mind is blank.

Finally, Charlotte speaks. "I have to say, I never expected you to visit me."

I meet her eyes, lowering my chin. "I decided I needed some closure of my own. Since you weren't willing to give me any."

She seems to understand what I'm implying, and nods slightly. "You're right. I was planning on killing you that night. And I'm sorry for that."

"No you're not."

Charlotte frowns, but doesn't argue further. She leans forward, her voice dropping to practically a whisper. "I hated Bethany Young. She took away any sense of an identity that I had. I wanted to see her suffer just like I did."

I tug on a strand of my dark hair, shaking my head in disgust. "Yeah, so you chose me as a replacement. Because Bethany and I look so much alike," I snap sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

There is a flash of something in her eyes – too quickly for me to tell if it's anger, or guilt, or just plain insanity – but then she sighs and leans back against the sofa. "I never meant for you to hear my story," she says, ignoring my outburst completely. "But I'm sure you know by now."

"Mona told me everything," I confirm, unable to tear my eyes from hers. "But I needed to see you for myself."

She smiles again, a bit unsettlingly, and says in a tone that is almost condescending, "And why do you feel that way?"

I exhale, forcing down my anger. "You were the person who sent me messages threatening to ruin my life. You roped me into the 'A' team and made me carry out your orders. You kidnapped me and forced me to take the identity of a dead girl." I pause, hoping that will sink in somehow, and add, "You have made the last year absolute hell, _Charlotte._ I needed to see for myself that it's really over."

"It's really over, Viola," Charlotte says in almost a sing-song, folding her hands primly in her lap. "And you don't have to worry…I won't be getting out of here for a very long time."

"You can rot in this place for the rest of your life, for all I care," I say, my voice harsh. I sit on my hands to hide the fact that they're shaking. Who does she think she is, whining about her new life in a cushy mental institution, after everything she did to me? "You should be glad you're not in prison."

She nods, her eyes downcast. "I'm surprised to hear you say that, Viola," she says quietly, almost sadly. "I'd think you'd have a little more sympathy for the mentally ill, considering a year ago your sister was sitting exactly where I am."

Now I'm glad that I'm sitting on my hands for a different reason. If I wasn't, there's a good chance I might lunge across the chair and punch her. "You are nothing like my sister," I say, and my voice is shaking with rage. "My sister never locked people up like her own little dolls."

"Maybe that's because she never got the chance," Charlotte replies, and I'm once again struck by how nonchalant, how nonthreatening, her tone is. Like we're talking about the weather or something.

"Listen to me, _'A,'"_ I say, my voice rising with every word. "There is one big difference between you and my sister. She got help. She got better. But you are beyond help. You will always be completely _insane."_

"What is going on over here?" I spin around, looking up at the nurse, who is standing beside us with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.

Oops. I didn't realize I was speaking _that_ loudly. "Nothing," I mutter, feeling my face redden.

But she doesn't look convinced. "I think it's time for you to go," she says, wrapping a hand around my arm and pulling me to my feet.

I wrench myself out of her grip and nod. "I'm glad we got to talk, Viola," Charlotte says from her place on the sofa, smiling at me once again.

I glance over my shoulder at her. "I know that Alison has been visiting you," I call back.

Charlotte smiles, and for once it looks real. "She's trying to forgive me."

I have nothing more to say, so I take a deep, shaky breath and turn for the door. I'm halfway across the room when I hear my name.

"Viola," Charlotte calls, standing and clasping her hands together in front of her, clutching the book between them. "I am sorry for everything I did to you. And I hope that one day you and the other girls can forgive me, too."

I stare at her. That was probably the only sincere thing she has said to me this whole time. I press my lips together, consider her words, and say, "I can't speak for the others. But I can speak for myself. Someday I might be able to forgive you for what you did. But I will never forget it. And my life will never be the same because of it."

And before she has the chance to respond, I take one last look at Charlotte DiLaurentis, and stride out of the visitor's room, out of the hospital, and away from "A," once and for all.

...

 **Let me know what you think! Next is the final chapter!**


	71. Epilogue

**You guys...this is it. The conclusion to "Sister, Sister." I can't believe I got six reviews so quickly - the only reason I didn't post this yesterday was because I was still writing it! I wanted to make the ending perfect, and I hope you are all satisfied. Thank you to every single person who followed, favorited, reviewed, or just plain read all of these chapters. This has been a long journey and I thank you all for following Viola's story. I love you all!**

 **Your feedback on this last chapter is more important to me than ever. So I'm asking all of you, whether you've reviewed every chapter, reviewed here and there, or heck, not reviewed ever, please, please just drop me a few words to let me know your final thoughts. As of now, I'm not planning to continue this into the time jump or write a sequel, but that doesn't mean you won't see any more of Viola. If you guys want more of her, please let me know! Otherwise, my next story "Anonymous" should be up within a few days. Check out my profile for more information! Once again, I love and appreciate each and every one of you.**

Epilogue

"Are you sure you packed enough? I mean, three suitcases of clothes just might not be enough."

"Shut up," Mona says, and I laugh, falling back onto the bed and grabbing the little stuffed beagle.

"You're taking Bungie, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," she says, taking the stuffed animal from me and shoving it into one of the filled-to-the-brim suitcases that litter the floor and bed.

I pull myself up, letting my legs dangle over the side of the bed, and catch sight of myself in the mirror on the wall across the room. I smile, turning my head and running a hand through the new blond highlights in my hair. Ironic, yes, but also kind of a reminder to myself. You can't forget the past, so why bother trying?

Maybe it's thinking about the past, or maybe it's the sight of all the suitcases on the floor, but suddenly I'm swallowing hard to choke back tears. "I can't believe you're really leaving today," I mutter, hugging a pillow to my chest. Then I force a laugh and add, "And I really can't believe you chose Duke over _Harvard_. God."

"Harvard might be the best," Mona says, sitting on a suitcase to zip it closed, "but it's too much pressure. I'm glad I'll just be able to be myself."

I nod, but I'm barely listening. Something else is bothering at me now, a secret that I should have admitted weeks ago. I've been putting it off, but I gaze around the nearly empty room and realize that my time is running out.

"You have two more weeks until school starts," Mona says just as I'm taking in a breath to speak. "Any plans?"

I smile despite myself. "I'm going out to the lake with Justin on Saturday. He's leaving for Case Western in a week." She raises her eyebrows, smiling, and I throw a pillow at her. "It's not like that. We're just…friends."

"I believe you," she says in a singsong, grabbing one of the suitcases from the floor and heaving it up. "Come on, help me take these downstairs."

I nod, but suddenly feel frozen on the edge of the bed. My hands clench tight on the bedspread, and I take in a deep breath. There's no way I can leave this room without getting this off of my chest. "Mona."

"Yeah?" my sister says, turning back toward me.

Awkwardly, I reach up and brush a strand of hair behind my ear. "Have you…visited her? Charlotte? You know…since….since she's been in the hospital?"

Mona's eyes narrow, and she steps back into the room, folding her arms. "No. Have you?" But I can tell that she already knows the answer.

"Yes," I say quickly, not letting myself think too hard about this. I made a promise to myself, after everything happened, that I would stop lying. I'm not going to let myself break it this soon. "A few weeks after she was committed."

"Why would you do that, Viola?" she asks, sitting beside me on the bed, and even though she doesn't look mad, I leap up anyway.

"I had to see her!" I blurt, pinching the bridge of my nose, where a headache forms every time I let myself think about Charlotte DiLaurentis. "You guys got to hear her story, watch her give herself up. I had to make sure for myself that she's not going to hurt us anymore."

"I understand," Mona says, and I'm so stunned that I take a step back and nearly trip over one of the suitcases. "I still have nightmares every night. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it's really over."

"I jump every time my phone buzzes," I add, laughing a little. "I'm not sure that will ever go away."

My sister sighs, getting up and squeezing my hand. "Look, I understand why you went to see Charlotte," she says again. "But I don't think it's a good idea for you to keep going back there."

I shake my head firmly. Even thinking about stepping foot in another mental institution makes me shudder. "I won't. I just needed…I don't know, closure, I guess."

"Speaking of closure," Mona says, beginning to lug one of the bags into the hallway, and I hurry to help, "did you say goodbye to Hanna, and the others? They're all leaving today."

"Well, except for Alison," I add, rolling my eyes. I can't believe that I'm still going to see her around town. It seems crazy that the one person who always seemed to have the biggest motive to leave this town is the only one who's choosing to stay. I think about my own desire to get out of here and wonder if, a year from now, I'll make the same choice.

Somehow I doubt it. Even if everything's okay now, I still can't wait to leave.

"I said goodbye to them yesterday," I say, grimacing as I pull one of the suitcases down the stairs. I'm surprised by the twinge of sadness that I feel when I think about those four girls. Even if we were never really great friends, I realize that I'm actually going to miss them.

Ten minutes later, the suitcases are packed into the back of the car and we're standing beside it. My throat suddenly feels like it's closing up. I blink back sudden tears and cough. "Um, aren't you gonna say goodbye to Mom?"

"I did, inside," Mona says, glancing back at the house. "She was already crying, said it would be too hard watching me drive away."

Oh, God. I hadn't thought about that part, even with the packed car right in front of me. "This is going to be like the summer you were in Radley all over again," I mutter, scuffing my flip-flop against the ground. "But this time I won't be able to come see you every day."

"I'm going to North Carolina, not Europe," Mona says, smiling and rolling her eyes. "I'll drive home some weekends. And you can come up and spend the night." She checks her watch and sighs. "I really have to go."

I hug my sister tightly, letting out something between a laugh and a cry. "You have turned the last two years of my life completely upside down," I say, pulling back and wiping a tear out of my eye. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'm going to miss you too," she says, hugging me again. "But keep your grades up and maybe you can come to Duke next year."

"One more year in Rosewood," I sigh, looking up and down the street at the way too familiar houses. "And then I'm free."

"I'll call you and Mom when I get there," Mona says, and climbs into her car. I step back into the front yard, clasping my hands in front of me.

I lift my hand in a wave as my older sister drives off, to start her new life. Then I walk to the end of the driveway and gaze back at the house. I might not be leaving Rosewood just yet, but even so, I feel like in a lot of ways, I'm starting over, too.


End file.
